And A Happy New Year
by GarryxMrChairFan
Summary: "'We could finally be free of the sexual frustration in the air, and the epic love story could finally begin for all to read. Not that anyone needs to read it,' he added, and Castiel could hear the smirk. 'We all know how it ends anyway.'" God, but Castiel hated the holidays. Destiel/Sabriel, High School/Coffee Shop AU.
1. Preface

**Sometimes, I have urges. This one happened to be an I-want-a-really-cheesy-stereotypical-clichéd-trope-filled-high-school-AU-and-hey-let's-mix-in-a-bit-of-coffee-shop-AU-while-I'm-at-it-and-make-it-sort-of-Christmas-themed-and-wow-let's-see-how-OOC-I-can-get-the-characters-too-because-fuck-it-why-not? urge. So I did another thing. This is the result. **

**Still new to the fandom, so fair warning: Destiel/Sabriel high school AU, (hopefully not too god-awfully) laughably OOC, and decidedly cliché. And full of tropes. Brace yourselves. **

* * *

><p><em><strong>And A Happy New Year<strong> _

GarryxMrChairFan

* * *

><p>.<p>

.

**Preface: It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas **

.

"Tall peppermint mocha with two shots of espresso!" Castiel slid the quickly heating cup to the edge of the pickup counter, smiling tiredly at the young woman who bounced up to take it. "Happy holidays."

"You too!"

He stared absently at the counter for a moment before sighing and dragging his feet back over to the register, taking the next waiting customer's order and trying not to just fall over out of sheer disdain. God, but he hated the holidays.

"Well, aren't you just a bucket of cheer today," Anna muttered, filling a cup with the requested shots of vanilla. He didn't quite have the energy to even turn a half-hearted glare on his coworker. "Seriously, what crawled up your ass and died?"

"I am quite convinced Mr. Roman emerged right out the fifth ring of Hell," Castiel returned, frowning down at the cup of the order he was filling. "I don't believe any of the material he presented is even relevant to the midterm."

Anna snorted, topping the order in her hands with whipped cream before shouting out to the slowly emptying café. "Well, _duh. _Guy's got it out for everyone who steps in his room, Cassie," she scoffed. Turning to face him, the pleasant smile she'd put up for the receiving customer dropped and she shot him the Look. "But all-nighter's don't make you look like you want to smite the next person to talk to you."

Resisting the urge to groan in exasperation at his sister's ability to pick up on his moods, he pushed the cup in his hands onto the pickup counter, calling out the order. "Why in the world would I want to smite anyone?" he asked lightly, turning from the counter.

"It's Dean, isn't it?"

Why did she have to be so perceptive? Ducking his head, Castiel frowned at his shoes, cheeks hot, before returning to his place behind the register, thankful that there wasn't anyone waiting to be attended to. "I have no idea what you mean," he mumbled, pointedly ignoring her dramatic eye roll; he could feel it on the back of his head.

"No idea my right asscheek," she muttered to herself, but he heard anyway. Crossing her arms, she leant against the display case. "He left, like, an hour ago, you know."

"Fifty-two minutes," Castiel corrected automatically, his voice wistful as his eyes darted to the clock hanging on the wall. "But I suppose that's close enough." Seeing as no one else needed his attention at the immediate point in time, he slumped against the counter, face in his hands.

"You should ask him out."

Rolling his head in her direction, Castiel gave her the most incredulous look he could muster, which must not have been much different than his usual deadpan one because his sister just snorted again and gave him another Look.

"I hadn't believed you lacked observational skills," he commented finally. "I do believe that Lisa is still with him, and he with her." They'd just been in the café, too, sitting at the table in the corner near the window and laughing with their group of friends.

No, he had _not _glared at their entwined hands resting on the table; he was just concentrating on the ring of perspiration from her Frappuccino that he was going to have to wipe up later.

Dean did have a nice laugh, though, deep and resonating. It made Castiel feel warm.

Anna actually laughed this time, and Castiel let the corner of his mouth quirk slightly at the sound. "You make it sound like that's important."

He narrowed his eyes in confusion, tilting his head against his hand. "I may not be completely familiar with relationship etiquette and the ins and outs of their workings, but I'm fairly certain that having a significant other means that Dean is 'off the market' and therefore I cannot just 'ask him out'." He was aware of the amount of air quotes in his musing, and he cringed at himself.

Unfortunately, Lisa was not the only reason Castiel could not simply ask Dean out— his own social skills were absolutely abhorrent as it was and he was almost completely, one-hundred percent certain it was a one-sided attraction, anyway.

Dean Winchester, as captain of the football and baseball teams, was an extremely social creature and therefore needed someone who could keep up with his active lifestyle. In contrast, Castiel detested having to interact with the general populace— honestly, having to interact with only his brothers on a daily basis was almost too much— and couldn't pick up on references to anything outside classic literature to save his life. This in and of itself could be worked through with time, perhaps, but their different personalities wasn't actually the problem with Anna's suggestion. No, the problem— and it was quite the problem actually, when one looked at the whole picture— was that Dean was already in a committed relationship.

With a very lovely young woman.

Who was a female.

And not a male.

There were rumors, of course, that Dean was not discriminatory of who he held by his side, but they were just that: rumors. And as such, Castiel was reluctant to believe such claims until he heard it from the young man's mouth himself, which he couldn't see happening in the foreseeable future. Or any future, regardless of his ability to foresee it or not.

The fact that he'd never actually spoken to Dean despite being in several of his classes was probably the key factor, but it was what it was.

"Besides," Castiel continued, "it is traditional during the holiday season to spend time with one's significant other." He didn't quite see the appeal of having to bother with gifts that were only to be discarded a week or two later and pretend to like them in the first place, or of forcing a pleasant atmosphere when families that would rather remain apart came together for Christmas dinner. "I very much doubt that Dean would want to even bother finding someone else at this point. Lisa is… familiar to him, and someone he knows he can actually please during such a time."

Not that Castiel was particularly hard to please, but he just couldn't picture Dean even wanting to think about stepping foot in a bookstore for him.

Not that he pictured Dean much at all. Of course not.

Anna shrugged carelessly, coming to wrap him in a hug and lean her head against his shoulder. He was barely taller than her, and she fit comfortably as they stood behind the counter. "Yeah, well, Lisa's an ornament and he could do much better," she said finally, and Castiel could hear the playfulness in her words, letting him know she felt completely the opposite of her stated opinion of Lisa and was only trying to make him feel better.

He smiled down at her, burying his nose in her fiery hair and inhaling the familiar scent of his sister's preferred perfume. "Thank you, Anna, but I'm happy as I am."

She giggled, squeezing him tightly for a brief moment before releasing him. "You're not, but fine, we'll let it go. For now," she warned, her eyes glinting mischievously. "You know Gabriel will have to have his say in the matter. Speaking of, he'll probably be expecting us to bring him home some diabetes-inducing concoction or another, hm?"

Castiel groaned at the mention of their brother and both the fact that there was another round of pestering and teasing planned for the night and that said brother expected— _demanded_— to be brought and presented with a specialty cup of sugar and caffeine every evening "_because hey, you guys get discounts, right? Awesomesauce. Bring me something chocolaty!_"

They never should have mentioned it, really.

As if summoned, the door to the little café was thrown open, the bell dinging cheerily above it and the chilled winter air wafting in as the ball of pure excitement and energy that was their older brother barreled in, grin wide and hair blown about from the wind. His eyes sparkled dangerously and Castiel felt the sudden urge to hide in the corner in the break room if only to spare himself the embarrassing pain in the ass that was Gabriel Novak for another moment.

"Cassie~!" Gabriel sauntered up to the counter, leaning on it and propping his chin in his hands. "How's my favorite little brother?"

"I was well until you walked in," he deadpanned, glaring at his brother. "And I know I've asked you not to call me that."

"But Anna calls you 'Cassie'!"

"I like her." Castiel resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose as Gabriel pouted up at him. His family was full of dramatics; he felt almost _normal_. "What do you want, Gabriel?" he asked eventually. "It's almost closing."

"Just checkin' on my favorites," Gabriel replied, tone light once again as he grinned. "Mike's out with Luce for the night too, so I thought I'd let you know not to expect him home for dinner."

Castiel and Anna both wrinkled their noses at the mention of their oldest brother and brother's "partner-in-crime" (really, they all _knew_, but Michael was just that oblivious sometimes, and they all found it too funny to comment on or correct— even Lucifer) and cringed away, using the excuse of needing to clean up to ignore Gabriel as he immediately launched into a story of his day that absolutely no one cared to hear.

By the time they were walking out the door, Anna locking it behind them, Gabriel had a Venti-sized cup overflowing with whipped cream drizzled in chocolate and caramel and filled to the brim with what equated to pure sugar and hardly any coffee, and the temperature had dropped at least another three or four degrees. The sky was fading from orange to indigo, and Castiel shoved his hands as deep as they would go into his pockets, tucking his face into his scarf as they walked from the café to their neighborhood.

Walking up to their house— well, they called it a house; everyone else muttered _mansion_ and looked upon it with equal parts awe and envy— Castiel let them all in and headed for the kitchen after hanging up his coat while Anna bounced up the stairs to her room and Gabriel moaned around each sip of his drink as he followed his brother to help with dinner.

That was always a bad sign, but Castiel couldn't think of any excuse to get Gabriel to leave.

"So, little brother." Yes, it was to be a very bad night indeed. Nothing good ever came from those three words. "How was school?"

Castiel eyed his brother as he began taking out pans and ingredients for the night's meal. Starting slow it was, then. "It was the same as always, Gabriel," he replied indifferently. Perhaps he could avoid the teasing yet.

"Full of walking dirt bags, hormones, and sexual tension, huh?"

"You would know if you actually bothered to show up," Castiel muttered, heating butter in a couple of the pans. "You do want to graduate this year, correct?"

Gabriel waved him off, slurping loudly on his drink and hopping up onto the clear area of the counter next to Castiel and the food. "Trust me, Cassie, it's not like there's anything to show up and _do._ It's Senior Year— no one ever does _anything._"

"Be that as it may, Gabriel, you shouldn't continue to skip your classes." Castiel listened to the sizzling sound of the butter as it melted. "Attendance is important as well as grades."

Gabriel made a face at him. "There's no one to show up _for_, either," he scoffed, and Castiel immediately feared for his life as a slow smirk crept across his brother's lips. "But you wouldn't know about that now, would you?"

Castiel stiffened only slightly and concentrated on the food instead. "I don't know what you mean," he lied smoothly, staring resolutely _away_ from his brother's sneering face. "I do always attend my classes, if that's what you're implying."

"Oh, Cassie~" Gabriel cooed, and Gabriel cooing was yet another Really Bad Sign. "I would believe you if you weren't red as a cherry sucker right now!" He cackled then, kicking his feet while Castiel tried his hardest to ignore him. "Really, though, I'd show up for Chucklehead too if he weren't such an ass." He hummed appreciatively then. "Hm, he does have quite an ass, though, don't you think?"

"I refuse to comment on that." The blood rushing through his ears and to his cheeks was comment enough as it was. "You already know I find Dean aesthetically pleasing, so there's nothing more to say."

Gabriel only hummed in acknowledgement, seeming to ignore the actual words as a thoughtful and dreamy look overtook his features. "Mm, but that moose of a brother of his, though— now _that_ is a nice ass if I've ever seen one!"

Castiel jumped at the opportunity to turn the conversation away from his admittedly pathetic crush on the school jock as he continued fixing their dinner. "There's someone for you to show up for," he suggested. "Why not attend your classes for the chance to see Samuel?"

"Be_cause, _Cassie!" Gabriel whined, throwing out a pout and gesturing with his arms in a way that Castiel could only hope to interpret. "Sammy's a _sophomore_! And I'm a _senior! _We don't share any classes at all!"

"I said 'for the chance' to see him, Gabriel." Castiel was quickly losing patience with his brother's immaturity for the night. "If you don't attend, you'll definitely never see him. Going to class ensures that you're bound to run into him at least once or twice in the halls. He does take the more advanced classes."

Samuel Winchester was in a couple of Castiel's classes, though Castiel himself was a junior; they shared the advanced classes that were normally taken by the seniors, and they'd bonded over their mutual outcast quality: they were both _not _seniors, and they both preferred quiet atmospheres where they could read and finish their homework quickly. Sam had sat next to Castiel in the back of the room on the first day, and they'd hit it right off. Sam was simply glad to have made a friend that wasn't just around for his older brother. Castiel actually liked Sam for Sam.

The fact that he was Dean's little brother was only a minor factor in their friendship.

Very minor.

Gabriel only grumbled under his breath, letting the subject of the Winchester brothers and their not-so-secretive crushes on them drop as Castiel finished with dinner and he, Gabriel, and Anna sat around the table to eat. As promised, their oldest brother was absent, and they were free to discuss Michael's love life without fear of being subjected to denial of the obvious and excuses that Lucifer was, in actuality, just a close and very dear "friend."

Perhaps a "close and very dear friend-_with-benefits"_, but none of them would ever mention it.

Since he'd cooked, Castiel was free to go about his nightly routine while Anna did the dishes and Gabriel attempted to not make a nuisance of himself, which only ever lasted for an hour or two. But it was a nice night nonetheless, and Castiel managed to finish his homework in peace before his brother's music began pouring through the walls and distracting him; it was loud and obnoxiously holiday-themed, and Castiel could only hope that by not giving him a reaction as he climbed into bed that Gabriel would bore of it and turn it off.

By the time he slipped off into sleep, his head was ringing with the chorus to _All I Want For Christmas Is You_, and all he could see behind his closed eyes were bright green eyes as they shimmered with laughter and hands clasped tightly above a coffee ring-stained table.

God, but he hated the holidays.


	2. Chapter One

.

.

**Chapter One: It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year**

.

"No."

Castiel could _feel_ the petulant pout being thrown at his back as he walked to class, his books tucked securely against his chest as he made his way down the hall with arguably the only real "popular" person he could even call an acquaintance. Meg Masters wasn't anything like him, too carefree and fiendish, but she stuck around with him and he had to admit he could appreciate her company every now and again.

This was not one such time.

"Oh, c'mon, Clarence!" Meg's heels clicked as they headed to class, and he saw her throw her hair out of her face as they entered the room. "Everyone's going to be there, anyway! Why not?"

"I've told you before that the 'party scene' is not one I am comfortable with." He sat heavily at his desk near the front of the room, assigned at the beginning of the year by their teacher. Meg took her seat next to him. "You know I wouldn't know half of those attending aside from yourself, and I wouldn't ask you stoop as low as to babysit me the entire night." He didn't like the thought of knowing he'd need to be babysat at all, but it was the truth.

Meg didn't look impressed at his attempts to convince her otherwise. She never looked impressed with him anyway, but still. "Dean'll be there," she purred lowly.

And that was just completely unfair of her, and she knew it if the glint in her eyes was anything to go by. Castiel sighed despondently and tried to contain his blush at the mention of a certain Winchester. "I-I— Dean's presence makes no difference to my decision, Meg."

"Right, because you don't just wanna be all up on that hot piece of Winchester ass if you got the chance," she teased, smirk in place.

"Of course not," he denied vehemently, eyes darting around as the class filled with students and searching for the familiar leather jacket and green eyes, still thankfully absent. His crush may not have been a secret per se, but he wasn't keen on the thought of advertising it around the object of said affection. "He'd be there with Lisa regardless, so I fail to see why it matters."

"It matters because you can finally take the chance to change his mind," she said, rolling her eyes. "Everyone knows Winchester swings for both teams, and you're pretty easy on the eyes, Clarence." She smiled at him, her eyes trailing over him pointedly, and Castiel shifted in discomfort at the scrutiny. "He'd be a fool not to at least _look._"

"Why does everyone believe he should even notice?" he muttered with a frown, looking down at his books as the warning bell sounded and the last of the class began trickling in. He watched with tired eyes as their topic of conversation strutted in, devilish grin in place and arm slung around the delicate shoulders of Lisa as they made their way to their seats in the back. For a brief moment, so quick he wasn't sure it happened, Castiel caught the direct gaze of Dean looking right at him, but before he could blink Dean was smiling back at Lisa again and Castiel was sure he'd imagined it. "As you can see," he continued quietly, "he is perfectly happy with whom is he is with now."

Meg just shook her head in exasperation, turning in her seat to face the front. "Perfectly happy doesn't look at other people, Clarence," she said, giving him a pointed look and ending the conversation as their teacher walked in. "I'll be seeing you Saturday."

With the teacher standing at his podium up at the front, Castiel was unable to respond in the negative and he sighed as he resigned himself to the fact that he would now be attending Meg's Christmas party on the weekend. The actual holiday wasn't for another week or so, but most people took vacations elsewhere over the actual winter break, going out of town to see relatives or just to travel, so any parties to celebrate were being held in advance. Meg's was actually one of the last before the break, and Castiel was only glad that he was low enough on the social ladder that he'd not been forced to attend more.

Hell would probably have frozen over if he had.

Choosing to ignore the lesson, just for the one day, Castiel instead spent the allotted hour and ten minutes sketching aimlessly in his notebook, filling the lined paper with drawings that reflected his musings. Most of them, unfortunately, were holiday themed, as he couldn't shake the apprehension of attending a holiday party for the first time in his life, though there was a corner that was filled with the images of intense eyes and wild smiles that made his heart ache once he realized whom his mind had wandered to.

Castiel almost moaned in relief when the bell finally rung, and he packed his things away carefully as he normally would as the room emptied around him. He shrugged back into his coat as he stood, and he could feel eyes on him as he slung his bag over his shoulder, gathering his books into his arms. Glancing up, he froze as he met the brilliant green eyes of Dean Winchester right beside him as he walked out, and Castiel was sure he stopped breathing for a moment when a small, half-smile was quirked his way, sending his insides aflutter and his heart racing and his blood pumping heatedly through his veins.

It took a moment for his brain to catch up, having possibly short-circuited, and he shook himself out before racing out the door, intent on making it on time to his next class despite how light-headed and flushed he felt. He entered his next class, quickly making his way to the back to his seat, letting his things fall with a muted _thump_ against the desk and his bag to the floor, sitting heavily and staring blankly forward as he tried to get his mind to work again.

Dean had _smiled_ at him! And _oh,_ what a smile it was, even as timid and reserved as it had been! That smile could light up even the darkest corners of Hell with its brightness, and it had been aimed at _Castiel_— he was sure he was going mad.

Well, of course he was— he sounded like a prepubescent girl, even _he _knew that much. But Dean had smiled at him, and it had honestly made his day. Perhaps he was reading too much into things, but who could blame him?

Dean Winchester had smiled. At him.

"What's got you in such a good mood?"

Oh, right. Samuel was in this class with him, wasn't he? Samuel Winchester, Dean Winchester's younger brother. His best friend. Right.

Castiel wasn't sure he was doing a particularly good job keeping his expression neutral and normal as he greeted Sam with a small nod. "Hello, Sam." He hoped they could just ignore the question asked because he really didn't think he could answer that in front of the answer's younger brother. "How are you today?"

Sam looked at him curiously, quirking an eyebrow for a brief moment before shrugging as he slid into his own seat. "I'm good. Been better, I guess, but not terrible."

"Is everything alright?" Castiel inquired, tilting his head as he observed Sam. His posture was slumped, tired, but not from lack of sleep.

With a weary sigh, Sam pushed a hand through his hair and gave Castiel a smile that bordered on a grimace. "Oh, you know— heated disagreement with the girlfriend right before the holidays. That kinda thing."

Castiel did not know, but he nodded solemnly anyway. "I see. How is Jessica?"

"Upset with me," Sam replied with a self-deprecating huff of air that may have been a laugh, but Castiel wasn't sure. "I was supposed to be visiting her parents with her over break, but something came up here and I told her I had to cancel and stay. She wasn't happy."

"Ah." Castiel wanted to say he understood, but he'd always spent the holidays with his siblings, so he could only assume that it would be upsetting to have plans change on such short notice. "May I ask what came up?"

Sam shifted, looking to the front of the room and pursing his lips. "Stuff," he replied vaguely, and Castiel had enough sense to know not to push the subject. It wasn't his business anyway. "Don't worry about it," he added, smiling slightly and looking back over at Castiel as the teacher swept into the room to begin the lesson. "So, you got any plans for the holidays?"

Castiel couldn't quite hold in the grunt of displeasure as the last period's conversation came back to him, and he glared at Sam as he held back a laugh at his expense. "Unfortunately, I've been demanded to attend a Christmas party this weekend," he replied dully, staring down at his notebook. "Other than that, however, my only plan includes curling up in front of a fire and reading whatever classic works are lying closest to me while Michael spends time with Lucifer, Anna goes out with friends, and Gabriel gets arrested in the next town over once again. I'm sure he has his own cell by now."

"Is he really that bad?" Sam asked, amused, and Castiel smirked.

"Last year was public indecency, which is one of his more mild offences."

"Was he drunk?"

"Oh, no," Castiel said, bemused at the thought. "It takes quite a bit of alcohol to get any one of us to the point of complete inebriation, and according to Gabriel, he'd been tossed out of the bar long before. He was simply 'tired of wearing clothes' and felt it appropriate to remedy the 'problem'."

Sam gave him another amused look. "You've been drunk before?"

Castiel looked down at his hands again, his shoulders slumping in shame. "It was not one of my prouder moments, I assure you. It was also not by my choosing, but Gabriel can be very demanding when he wants to be."

As the teacher shushed them with a pointed gaze, Sam turned to face the front but not before shooting him a pointed smirk. "I wanna hear _all _about that one of these days."

Castiel grimaced. "I'm sure you do."

This time, Castiel actually forced himself to focus on the lesson— Ms. Ellen Harvelle ruled the class with an iron fist, and while he could consider himself a closer friend to her due to her relationship with the Winchester family, it was unlikely he'd make it out alive if he didn't pay attention, Sam's best friend or not— to make sure he wasn't caught distractedly sketching the eyes of his best friend's brother. Sure, the sketches were in black and white and they were only the eyes, but Castiel felt sure that if anyone knew Dean's eyes like he did, it'd of course be Sam.

The prospective interrogation that would follow that discovery made sure Castiel was taking notes on the lesson as if his life depended on it.

Which it sort of did, but that wasn't the point.

When the bell rang, Ellen bid them farewell by yelling out the night's homework (which chapters to study for the midterm coming up the next week), and Castiel gathered his things again and followed Sam out into the hall, heading with him to their next class. No longer distracted by the slight smile of Dean, Castiel could appropriately display his mild disgust at the decorations hanging along the walls and lockers, red and green paper chains lining the corridor and cutout snowflakes hanging down from the ceiling, courtesy of the Student Body committee. Drawings of snowmen and Santa Claus with reindeer overtook the windows looking out into the courtyard as Sam and Castiel made their way from the History hall to the English hall, headed for their upper level Literature class.

It made him slightly queasy to be bombarded with so much… Commercialization.

Sam only laughed at his distraught face as they entered their next period classroom. "You look ready to hurl, dude," he chuckled. "The holidays aren't _that _bad, are they?"

"When you have to spend them with Gabriel," Castiel slid into his seat at the back, "you learn to despise just about any time centered on food and candy and celebration."

Rolling his eyes, Sam ducked his head as he took his seat next to Castiel. They found a different vein of conversation to follow as the rest of their class meandered in slowly, an almost tangible lack of enthusiasm for studying the work they were currently on. It was comical to Castiel and Sam, who quite enjoyed classic literature.

Right at the warning bell, they were joined by one more of their friends, a sweet and strong-willed girl named Joanna, daughter of Ellen. Knowing one Harvelle meant knowing both, as they came as a sort of packaged deal, and Castiel smiled at her as she plopped down beside them.

"Hello, Jo," he greeted, as Sam mumbled a "Hey, Jo" and nodded at her. She grimaced at both of them before huffing and rifling through her things.

"Yeah, hey guys. I am completely, one-hundred percent going to fail this midterm, you know? Nothing makes any sense and I'm pretty sure someone stole my review sheet. Like, who even does that?"

Castiel tilted his head as Sam bit back a laugh. "You didn't do the review."

Jo gave him a Look. Anna was having quite the influence on her. Or maybe it was on each other. Hm. "Someone still took it. Whatever. Did you hear about the party this weekend?"

"Yeah, Castiel was actually _invited_," Sam said, a smug grin taking over his face as Castiel slumped once again in his seat. Perhaps if he tried hard enough, he'd be able to turn invisible. "But that's all I know."

"_You_ were invited to go to Meg's party this weekend?" Jo sounded impressed. "Well, look at you! Our little boy is growin' up, Sammy!" She laughed alongside Sam, both of them pantomiming wiping tears from their eyes as Castiel tried not to glare at them in petulance. That was Gabriel's thing. He did, however, feel the urge to lean away when Jo leant up in close to his face, a knowing grin on her lips. "Is _he_ gonna be there?" She waggled her eyebrows.

No, that wasn't a blush on his face. How absurd. But he did feel inexplicably hot for some reason, and if the teasing smile on Sam's face was any indication, he wasn't hiding it very well. "I'm sure many _he_s are going to be there, Jo," he said finally. "You may have to be more specific." _Please don't be more specific. I don't want to traumatize Samuel._

Thankfully, Jo knew better than to say names. "Oh, you _know_. But seriously, Castiel! Maybe you'll be able to make a move now!"

Sam's eyebrows had suddenly decided to greet his hairline. "Castiel wants to make a move? On who? And why am I only now hearing this?"

"It is not of import," Castiel said as Jo simply cackled maniacally. "Some people have simply come to the conclusion it would not be a waste of time, and I happen to disagree."

Sam stared at him for a moment, only dropping the subject when their teacher sauntered into the room and they quietly let out a collective groan. Mr. Roman was definitely the clichéd "let-me-make-your-existence-one-you-wish-would-end-now" teacher, and Castiel wasn't sure he'd actually been exaggerating when he'd told Anna he was fresh out of Hell.

Castiel hated him almost as much as he hated the holidays, and it was nearly tragic that he happened to teach Castiel's favorite subject.

The irony— and cliché— was nearly unbearable.

The only nice thing about the holiday season was that all teachers, without exception, seemed to agree that bothering their students as they normally would was just no longer worth the effort, and Castiel, Sam, and Jo were left to their own devices in the back of the class to finish up the project the class had been assigned while Mr. Roman concentrated his attention on the students of his he _did_ like instead for the duration of the period. It was probably the most peaceful class period Castiel had ever had.

Of course, nothing could last forever, and as Castiel followed Sam and Jo to the cafeteria for lunch, the calm peace he'd been feeling as they worked on their project evaporated almost immediately as they entered the room full of hormone-driven teenagers sprawled about, laughing and gossiping the way they were wont to do and that Castiel still didn't see the point in. Their table was off to the side, though, and was much more civil than the rest of the lunchroom, with only a couple more people slumped over the table as they took their seats.

Anna greeted them with a quick smile before turning back to her phone, and they received a mindless wave from Chuck Shurley, a quiet boy who couldn't pull his attention from his writing for more than a moment at a time. Thankfully, his girlfriend was not present, as well as Charlie— the tech-savvy sister all of them never knew they needed but weren't sure they particularly _wanted_— which was probably why their table was so quiet to begin with.

"Okay," Sam started, and Castiel jumped when his shoulder was jostled by Sam's hand. "Why don't I know about this guy you wanna make a move on?"

Anna shared a beaming look with Jo. "What is this now? Cassie wants to actually make a move?" She turned to him before he could say anything. "Why didn't you tell me that all those longing sighs were actually just you building up your courage, Cassie?!"

"Yeah, _Cassie,_" Sam mocked, though his smile did nothing to calm Castiel's suddenly racing nerves as embarrassment started setting in his veins. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because there's nothing to be said," he insisted, turning his glare on all of those looking at him, cursing that they knew him well enough to not be affected by it. "I do not wish to 'make a move' on anyone at any time. You've jumped to conclusions, and they are wrong."

"Are they? Really, Cassie?" An arm slid around Castiel's shoulders, and he held back a groan as Gabriel's smirking face settled beside his on his shoulder. "Because there's really only so many ways to interpret the meaningful stares every time you see him."

"Jeez, does _everyone_ know but me?" Sam groaned, but Castiel could tell it was playful. "I want in on teasing you too, you know!"

"I would rather you didn't," Castiel objected, but was drowned out by Gabriel who released him to place his hands instead on Sam's shoulders, grinning down.

"Oh, Sammich, you are indeed missing out! I may just have to remedy this dire problem of you being left in the dark!" His eyes glinted mischievously, and Castiel felt his stomach drop from his body as he realized what was going to happen.

"Please don't, Gabriel," he pleaded, but his eyes widened in horror as Gabriel leant down to bring his mouth right next to Sam's ear.

"Cassie over there has the hots for big brother Dean, don't you know?" he stage-whispered, and Castiel really wished he could turn invisible at the moment, Sam's eyes widening in surprise. "He so wants a piece of Winchester ass. Literal teenage girl Castiel Novak, everybody." He gestured dramatically towards Castiel with flair and flourish.

Well, at least Sam was now as red as Castiel was, though that was only a small consolation as Sam's smirk began creeping back in. "Seriously? You're crushing on _Dean?_" He laughed, and yes, now would be a good time to find a hole to bury himself in. "I don't know whether to be supportive and tell you to go for it or be totally and thoroughly disgusted at the thought of my best friend and my brother gettin' it on together."

The table erupted in laughter, and Castiel really did just want to disappear as his cheeks heated up and he shot as hard of a glare at his older brother as he could manage, which wouldn't have fazed him even if he weren't red and completely mortified. "I hate you, Gabriel," he settled for saying. Yes, it was childish, but he felt justified.

"Love you too, little bro~!" Gabriel cackled, smiling down devilishly. "Now that my work here is done, I'll leave you ladies and moose to your tea party~! I have a vending machine to raid!" With that, he squeezed Sam's shoulders once before turning and skipping off.

The laughter died down eventually, and Castiel didn't want his end to come quite as soon as before, though he still wasn't sure he would mind suddenly internally combusting and turning into a pillar of flames. He felt hot enough for it, certainly. "That was completely uncalled for," he muttered, as the rest of the table caught their breaths.

"That was Gabriel," Anna chuckled, leaning on her palm. "He's the definition of 'uncalled for.' But now we all know and can now make Sam feel just as uncomfortable about it!"

Well. That was a plus, he supposed, as he shared a grimace with the mentioned Winchester. "He still shouldn't have said anything," Castiel sighed.

"Look at it this way," Anna said, flipping her hair and looking directly at him. He caught the sparkle of evil intent in her eye, and he quirked an eyebrow. "Now you have absolutely nothing to hide or lose, and you know something he'd kill to keep secret. _You_," she said, sending a brief pointed glance to Sam, "have dirt on Gabriel."

Suddenly feeling the heat of the tall body next to him, Castiel let a small smirk turn up his lips. "Ah. I'll remind him of that tonight. Perhaps he'll reconsider sharing personal information that is not his."

"Ooh," Jo raised her eyebrows and looked between them both with raised eyebrows and a smile. "Dirt on Gabriel? How much do I have to pay to learn what that is, and can I pay in dead bodies?"

"Oh, it's not much," Anna brushed it off, smirking at her. "Just a crush."

Jo's eyes widened. "He likes someone? _Who?_ I didn't think he bothered with the feelings crap."

Anna looked back at Castiel, who only shrugged minutely. He was sure Anna would tell Jo later that night anyway, but he wouldn't say anything, not with Sam sitting right there and looking both amusedly curious and pained at the same time. Castiel wasn't quite sure what could possibly be causing the slight dejection on his face, but he refrained from commenting.

"For now," Castiel stated, "whom he likes is for him to announce, if he chooses."

Jo pouted but relented, and Sam stayed quiet as lunch drew on and eventually came to an end. Castiel was decidedly _not _paying attention to Sam when Dean came over to walk with his brother to class, ignoring the sly smirks sent his way and trying not to forget how to breathe when Dean sent another half-smile his way as he made his way to his next class with Chuck.

"It'd be worth asking him out, you know," Chuck commented offhandedly as they took their seats. "Dean, I mean."

Castiel wasn't sure the amount of staring he was doing right at that moment was normal even for himself. Unsure what to say, he remained silent as the other students walked in, staring down at his desk. The patterns in the faux wood were fascinating, really. Much more interesting than the half-hearted decorations strung around the board and windows for sure.

"Did you break him, Shurley?" The smooth voice broke through Castiel's intense concentration on the swirl in the corner of the desktop, but he didn't look up at the exchange student. He wasn't particularly fond of Crowley, and ignorance tended to bore him if gone on long enough.

"Maybe," Chuck shrugged, turning to his notebook. "I just said it'd be worth asking Dean out."

"Ah, yes," Crowley mused, seating himself at his desk in front of Castiel, propping his chin in his hand on Castiel's desk. "We could finally be free of the sexual frustration in the air, and the epic love story could finally begin for all to read. Not that anyone needs to read it," he added, and Castiel could hear the smirk. "We all know how it ends anyway."

Castiel finally did look up, keeping his face as smooth and neutral as possible. Why did everyone know about his attraction to Dean? And why did they all think he should… well. It was as if they all thought he should be with him. Even Sam hadn't objected to it. He'd even said he'd encourage it if he didn't want to not think about them together.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," he said, looking past Crowley to the front of the room. "Sexual tension requires physical attraction on both parts, or at the very least interaction of any level between the two involved. I have not ever spoken to Dean, nor have any reason to now, and therefore have not had and do not plan to have any interaction with him."

Crowley simply quirked a bemused eyebrow. "You may have to dumb it down for the rest of us, darling. That was a bit encoded, almost." He sneered.

"There is no sexual tension between Dean and myself because there's nothing there to be tense," he clarified. "If the lack of interaction weren't enough, there's certainly not mutual attraction."

"Darling," Crowley sighed, looking at him with intensity, "he'd be completely daft not to be even a little attracted. Trust us who tell you: there is definitely attraction."

With that, he turned around as a man Castiel didn't know walked into the room, shuffling his feet heavily as if he were extremely put upon to be there, and heaving a world-weary sigh as he set his bag down on the teacher's desk. He was easily in his late thirties, with the build of a man who worked with his hands and possibly heavy machinery. He didn't look like someone who taught from planned lessons for standardized testing, instead favoring learning by experience, but his eyes seemed old and wise, full of knowledge gained from that experience. Castiel liked him.

Judging by the straightening of Crowley's shoulders and the surprised release of breath in front of him, so did Crowley. "Yes, there is _definitely_ attraction," he heard the exchange student mutter, and Castiel shared a look with Chuck before turning his attention back to the front.

"Due to circumstances," Castiel was sure the new teacher didn't believe for a lick that those "circumstances" held any merit, "I'll be your teacher for however long they decide I'm needed. Name's Singer, but y'all'll call me Bobby 'cause 'Mr. Singer' was my old man." He eyed the room, and Castiel sat just a bit straighter under his scrutinizing gaze. "Show me effort, and we should get along just fine.

"Now, I was informed that y'all were working on projects in pairs, so I'll leave ya to it for today. We'll start in on reviewing for the midterms tomorrow." He rolled his eyes. "Buncha pointless time-wastin', in my opinion, but they don't pay me for that, so we'll just get on with it." When no one made a move, he turned a glare on the room. "Hop to it!"

The room moved in a conglomerating mass at once, the students pairing off quickly as Bobby Singer took a seat behind the teacher's desk, running a hand through his hair before turning to the papers in his bag and grumbling under his breath. Castiel turned his attention to Chuck and Crowley, who he'd been stuck with due to uneven numbers in the class, and pulled out his part of their research. Well, he'd say "his part", but it was really all of it.

The curse of being the academic-loving nerd.

"Mm," Crowley hummed, face resting in his palm. Castiel noticed his eyes were trained across the room. "Now _that_ is a tortured soul if I've ever seen one. He is completely and totally done with the world's bullshit."

Chuck nodded along, absorbed in his notebook as his pencil flew over the paper. "He does look like he's seen a lot. I can't say I blame him."

Castiel shuffled through his papers, pulling out the reference books he'd been using the night before. "He knows much about many things," he said, opening one of the books. "You can almost see the knowledge in his eyes."

"You were looking into his eyes?" Crowley sneered.

"Weren't you?" Chuck shot back.

Mocking him under his breath, Crowley turned his attention back to Bobby while Castiel continued working on the research, noting down things that would be useful and interesting— well, perhaps only to him, as no one was going to pay attention anyway— in the presentation of their project.

The rest of the period went without incident, and Castiel was almost prepared for the Apocalypse to ensue because of all of the normality by the time he walked into his last class of the day, seating himself next to Meg and Crowley taking his seat on his other side. As he normally did, he listened to his friends chat lightly while he watched the door as the others came in one after another or in groups, watching wistfully as Dean walked in with his group of friends, laughing and pushing at each other as they took their seats across the room. Like had been happening, Dean turned and caught his eye, sending him a small smile before turning back to his friends as if nothing had happened, and Castiel was wondering if he truly wasn't going insane.

"Like I said," Crowley suddenly interrupted his thoughts, giving him the Look (really, did _everyone _know the Look?), "he'd be daft not to be even a bit attracted to you, darling."

Lost for a response anyway, Castiel reluctantly focused his attention on the teacher as she started the class period, and he spent the time aimlessly staring around the room, lost in thought. Calculus was quite a bore anyway, so he only pulled himself back into the class long enough to write the homework down before letting himself tune back out from the lesson. He definitely wasn't watching Dean from the corner of his eye, slumped over in his own seat and seeming utterly bored out of his mind. He smiled to himself, thinking that if anything they both shared a mutual love-hate feeling towards mathematics— Dean was actually quite brilliant with numbers, and Castiel was just smart all around; no, that wasn't meant to sound arrogant, it was simply the truth— and could possibly find it a stable ground for conversation if ever Castiel found his inner socialite and acted upon its urges.

Which, again, he simply couldn't see happening anytime soon.

The final bell of the day was a heavenly sound, and Castiel bid Meg and Crowley goodbye as they left, talking amongst themselves, while he put all of his notebooks in his bag and picked up his texts to drop off at his locker. He ignored the feeling of being watched this time around, sweeping out of the room instead because he really had to get to work and getting caught up staring at Dean was just not going to end well for anyone involved, so he pushed the butterflies fluttering in his stomach down as he walked. Luckily, his locker was only a hallway over from his last class, and he spent only a moment opening it and shoving his unneeded textbooks to the bottom, grabbing those he needed for his homework that night and shoving them into his bag.

Closing his locker, he jumped at the body leaning against the one right next to his, and wow, yes, Lucifer Milton was indeed the Devil incarnate, able to just _appear_ at will. The smirking form of his oldest brother's "partner-in-crime" (_boyfriend_, but Michael insisted one: that he was "not gay"— _please_; two: "boyfriend" was a word used by teenage girls, which he was _not_; and three: Lucifer wasn't a "boy"— but "manfriend" just sounded awkward, so they all just referred to him as Michael's boyfriend behind Michael's back; Lucifer seemed to like it, anyway) was leant casually against the locker, a cigarette hanging from his lips.

"So." Lucifer quirked an amused eyebrow at him as Castiel struggled to breathe again. "I heard you've been invited to Meg's this weekend."

Shouldering his bag, Castiel eyed the blond briefly before turning to walk off, feeling Lucifer fall into step beside him. "I was, yes," he replied. "She insisted that I attend, though I have no clue why. She knows I am not fond of parties."

"So it _is_ all to do with Winchester, then?"

Castiel bit back a frustrated huff. Even _Lucifer?_ Well, he actually wasn't that surprised, really. "She may have mentioned he'd be there. What of it?"

Lucifer held up his hands in surrender, but his smirk was still firmly in place. "Just wanted you to know I'm rooting for you, dear Cassie. Watching out for my favorite little brother," he said sweetly, and Castiel repressed a shiver.

"We're not even related, Lucifer." And he had yet to decide if it was a good or bad thing that he was apparently the favorite, even though Lucifer _had_ brothers— real, _blood-related_ brothers (though, to be fair, Raphael and Zachariah were pretty much the twins from Tartarus— _controlling bastards_— Balthazar, though technically Lucifer's older brother, was… _strange_, even for Milton standards, and Samandriel was too young for Lucifer to bother with outside of their home. Poor child; he was such a sweetheart).

"Not _yet!_" And with that, Lucifer left him to join his group of friends in the courtyard, and Castiel shook his head as he turned and started making his way to the café where most of the students headed after school to hang out and relax, talking in groups and doing homework, or pretending to study while really discussing their teachers' lives in hushed whispers.

He cringed as he walked into the place for his shift, the sounds of overly cheery holiday music playing through the speakers as he made his way behind the counter and changed into his work uniform (which really just meant he lost his coat in trade for an apron; his usual button ups were professional enough not to warrant changing). He ran a quick hand through his hair as he went to stand behind the register, joining Anna who was already neck deep in filling orders for seasonal drinks, and he plastered the required smile on his face as he got to work.

It was almost torture, and Castiel felt as defeated and despondent as he did every day during the winter season. He'd heard at least five different versions of _Jingle Bells_ in the last two hours alone, and his only solace was in the two times his preferred carol happened to play (okay, so he had a weakness for the Trans-Siberian Orchestra; they were instrumental and lovely to listen to). Like clockwork, Castiel made sure he was in the middle of filling orders when Dean walked in, Lisa on his arm as always, though he smiled slightly when Sam followed them in and waved to him.

"Hey, Castiel," he greeted, coming up to the register. "I didn't know you worked as a barista."

"It was not exactly my first choice," Castiel admitted with a quirk of his lips, finishing up with the whipped cream on the macchiato and calling out the order. "But it provides an income, and I enjoy it every other day of the year outside of this time."

Sam nodded in understanding. "Yeah, Christmas music gets old after the first few, huh?" Castiel must have actually made a face, since Sam began laughing. "Yeah, I feel you. I've never been big on the 'cheerful' music either."

Castiel hummed in response, pulling up another cup to fill. "Well, it's nice to see you, Sam. Why don't you give Anna your order and I'll have it right out?" He smiled, and Sam nodded, going to stand by Dean, who was at the front of the line ordering for himself and Lisa as he always did. Castiel had to hide his soft smile at the familiar order scribbled on the side of his cup and try not to glare menacingly at the one on Lisa's, instead forcing himself to focus on pumping shots of flavor and espresso and mixing everything together as he'd been taught. It was mindless work, and he really did enjoy it.

"Venti Chai tea latte!" he called, giving into the urge to smirk when Sam bounced up to the pickup counter. "I should have known you couldn't even properly order a cup of sugar." Sam shot him a face, and Castiel chuckled. "It was refreshing not to have to use peppermint, though."

"Glad I could give you a break," Sam smirked, inhaling the aroma of his drink. "I'll let you know how you did in a bit."

Castiel waved him away, continuing to fill the orders of those that came and went. Anna only jabbed him in the ribs twice, which was quite the improvement over every half hour, until Dean left, Sam smiling and waving at them one more time as they headed out into the chilled wintry air. The sky was a light grey, covered with thick clouds, and Castiel was sure it would snow in the next few days. He didn't bother with TV, so he never knew what the weathermen predicted, but he'd become fairly adept at it himself and figured he didn't need them anyway.

Like the night before, Gabriel burst in a few minutes before closing, hands immediately going for the concoction sitting on the counter while Castiel and Anna finished locking everything up in the appropriate place, sliding into their coats and walking out into the cold. They walked home in companionable silence, which simply meant that Gabriel chattered nearly nonstop while the other two ignored him. Dinner was on Anna that night, and Castiel washed up afterwards in a near daze-like state, thinking over the day now that he had ample time on his hands.

It was almost strange how many of his friends and acquaintances had insisted on acting on his feelings for Dean, considering he'd had them for nearly his entire high school career. No one had said anything at the beginning, hadn't even given him a second glance as he silently made his way to and from his classes, trying hard to stay out of people's way and in the background. He supposed it started when Meg had approached him and practically announced her friendship, wanted or not, and wouldn't leave him alone. Suddenly, he was also friends with Chuck and Crowley, though that was still a subjective term to use, and then he'd met Sam and Jo and Ellen, who was quite possibly the closest thing to a mother he'd ever known. He'd always had Michael and Gabriel and Anna, but it was nice to be accepted by others, too.

And suddenly, everyone could see his blindingly obvious attraction and infatuation with the school star, the longing stares and deep sighs and light blushes because apparently he was also an immature boy still going through puberty for the first time— all of it. And they _approved_ it, _encouraged _it.

It was starting to freak him out, in all honesty.

To top it all off, though, was that they'd waited until Dean was in a committed relationship and it was now that one time of the year that he couldn't just leave her, even if he wanted to; there were expectations and plans already there for the holiday season, and that wasn't going to change because people had noticed Castiel's captivation.

In the words of his brother: _what a bunch of dicks._

After he finished with the dishes from dinner, Castiel headed up to his room to complete his homework. Thankfully, Gabriel was not allowed to even touch the stereo system because Michael was home and just wasn't going to have it, and it was a quiet night as he climbed into bed, able to slip into sleep with little effort. It didn't stop his mind from wandering to the images of green eyes and a small, barely-there smile that made his heart stutter in his chest and the butterflies stir in his stomach, though.

Literal teenage girl Castiel Novak indeed.


	3. Chapter Two

.

.

**Chapter Two: I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas**

.

"C'mon, princess! Rise 'n shine!"

Sam only grumbled to himself as he listened to his brother banging around downstairs, purposefully trying to make as much noise as possible. Not to get Sam up, oh no— that'd be too easy. No, the noise was purely for the annoyance of his little brother.

And dammit, it worked every time.

Pressing his pillow harder over his head, Sam prayed that maybe, just maybe, he could fake sick for once in his life and just not go, because he really just wasn't feeling it today. Not because he felt bad or wanted to avoid anything or body— okay, well, maybe there was a person or two he could survive without seeing— but really just because it was the middle of winter and his hibernation instincts were kicking in. He was actually kind of surprised Dean was up and stomping around.

"Seriously, Samantha! Drag your girly ass out of your beauty sleep and come on!" Dean's voice wasn't even muffled through his closed door. "We're gonna be late!"

"Like you ever care, jerk!" he finally yelled back, dragging his butt out of the bed and out to the bathroom across the hall. "What, you gotta hot date with your desk or something?"

"Shut up, bitch!"

Sam smirked, shaking his head as he brushed his teeth before heading back to his room to put on real clothes. He stuffed his things in his bag and slung it over his shoulder, scooping up his phone and checking his messages as he stomped down the stairs. "Fine, here I am," he said as he bypassed his brother, standing with his hands on his hips in the entry to the kitchen and eyeing him with his watered-down version of the patented Sam Winchester Bitchface TM.

Dean only wished his was as good as Sam's.

"Just get in the car, Sammy," Dean groaned, picking up his keys and bag as he followed his little brother out to the driveway, smiling softly at the sleek piece of machinery sitting in it. Sam gave him a real bitchface at the cooing, sliding into the passenger seat of the Impala and stuffing his bag between his long legs, still scrolling through his messages.

"Jess finally calm down?" Dean asked as he sat behind the wheel, revving the engine with another smile before pulling out into the street.

"Somewhat," Sam sighed, rolling his eyes as he sent back a short reply. "She's still not thrilled that I'm not gonna be there with her and her parents."

"Yeah, well, Dad's a free spirit." Dean's lips were set in a thing line, and Sam felt himself mirroring the feeling in his own face. "Can't control what he gets up to."

Sam just nodded, turning to glare out the window. It wasn't actually a problem that their dad had decided to up and disappear again; they'd long grown used to it. Now that Dean was almost eighteen, it really didn't matter. They'd grown tired of all the moving and finally put their metaphorical foot down a couple of years ago, insisting that they could take care of themselves and that they were done with being dragged along when John's wiles carried him away. John, in an act of mercy, had agreed with the only stipulations to the set up being that they didn't do anything to get arrested, and unless he was home, they wouldn't travel long distances by themselves until Dean was officially legal. He made sure they had money for bills and necessities along with Dean's income, and they were left in the town they'd come to call home whenever he decided to hit the road, returning months at a time later to check in on them.

It seemed fair and it worked for them, and really, that wasn't what was keeping Sam from visiting Jess at her parents' for Christmas— he could sneak out if he wanted and Dean wouldn't actually care, knowing he was with Jess. He liked Jess well enough, and he trusted Sam to not get himself in the kind of trouble he couldn't handle.

No, the reason he wasn't pushing to visit his girlfriend at her parents' for Christmas had been a while in the making, standing about five-foot-eight with the most mesmerizing amber-colored eyes he'd ever seen. If he were one to put a name to things, he'd have to call the reason Gabriel Novak. And woo, boy, if that wouldn't just go over with Jess like flames to oil.

Yeah, no. He wasn't even gonna go there, so John Winchester skipping out of town was his story, and he was sticking to it.

They pulled into the student parking lot not fifteen minutes later, the only sound in the Impala being the radio station Dean had practically glued the dial to, and Sam slumped out of the car alongside his brother, walking up with him to the entrance to the school. Dean broke away from him with a light, brotherly hit to his shoulder to go keep his own girlfriend company, and Sam made another face at Lisa's back before heading toward his first period class.

He'd liked Lisa in the beginning, he really had. Dean was happier than he'd been in a while, less tense and on edge, and it was a relief to see him looking out for himself for a while. But something had changed in the last half year or so, and Sam was starting to notice. Sure, Dean put on a winning smile and laughed at the jokes, but it wasn't _Dean._ Sam knew his masks, and to his distress, the one his brother had worn pretty much since the day their mom passed away was slowly starting to fall back into place, closing him off from the world and reverting him to the protective guardian he'd been raised as.

He was sure Dean and Lisa were having some sort of problems, but Dean being _Dean_ never wanted to _talk_, so Sam was left guessing at what it could be. He wondered briefly if it were similar to his own situation with Jess, if either Dean or Lisa were eyeing someone new, but Dean was nothing if not faithful to a fault; he was dedicated to those he cared about, and Sam just couldn't see Dean letting his attention stray. He'd look, yeah, but he wouldn't seriously consider it because that was just the kind of guy he was.

Of course, following this line of logic, Sam could only assume Lisa was the one at fault, and that's when he'd come to sort of not like her anymore. Dean would give anything for her, and she was looking elsewhere? Fuck that. Dean deserved someone that wouldn't give up on him, and as things were, Sam didn't think that was Lisa anymore.

Passing by the lockers in the History hall, Sam caught sight of the dark head of hair and beige coat of his best friend, and he waved when those intense blue eyes looked up at him. Castiel returned the wave with a small smile and a wave of his own before shutting his locker and heading off in the other direction to his first class.

Really, if anyone deserved Dean, it was Castiel. Now that he knew, he couldn't believe he hadn't seen it before. His best friend was _smitten_; there was no other word. And Castiel was a great guy, someone Sam knew could keep Dean on his feet, keep him grounded when things got stressful and give him a reason to laugh and smile again like he hadn't since Mom had passed away and Dad had sort of checked out on them in his grief.

It was almost tragic how he hadn't figured it out sooner.

Sam continued to his class, a frown falling back in place as he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, and he sighed as he slid into his seat in the front (there was literally no room for his legs anywhere else).

Pulling his phone out of his pocket, Sam unlocked it and pulled up the message from Jess:

_ur not even trying. I get ur dads out but y is that stopping u from visiting?_

Sam sighed again, running a hand over his face before replying:

_Rules are rules. I won't travel until Dean's 18. That was the agreement._

"Trouble in paradise, Sammich?"

Sam jumped as a small body perched itself on his desk, and he let out a huff of a laugh as Gabriel grinned down at him, sucker in hand. His heart began thumping a bit more rapidly as Sam watched him put it in his mouth, rolling it around his tongue once, twice before sucking with a loud slurp and pulling it back out. Sam then had to check that he wasn't drooling.

Remembering that he'd been asked a question, Sam looked back down at his phone to gather his thoughts, seeing the screen light up right before the vibration hit:

_ur dad doesnt control u. Its never stopped u b4. I feel like u dont even care anymore_

Letting out a long breath, Sam glanced back up at Gabriel, who was looking down on him with what may have been mild concern. "Yeah, I guess you could say that," he finally replied, shaking his head. "Change of plans for the holidays, y'know."

Gabriel hummed in understanding, bringing his legs up to sit cross-legged on top of the desk. _Advantages of being short_, Sam thought with a smirk. "Yeah, changes of plan'll do that," Gabriel agreed. "So what changed?"

Sam shrugged. "I was supposed to be visiting Jess' parents with her for break, but Dad left yesterday morning." He sniffed, jaw setting tightly. "Can't travel 'til Dean's legal; old man's rules." He glanced back down at his phone as it vibrated again:

_Is that it? U dont care? Cause thats what it feels like_

Gabriel stuck the sucker back in his mouth as he gazed down at Sam, who was trying not to pay too much attention to the senior sitting on his desk and making really lewd noises around a piece of candy. Speaking of: "What are you doing in here anyway, Gabe?" Sam asked, realizing too late he'd accidentally let the nickname slip. "Shouldn't you be, I don't know, in your _actual_ class?" Not that Sam minded.

Gabriel just laughed. "There's nobody interesting in my classes," he said nonchalantly, winking at Sam, and Sam had to bite his lip to retain his smile. "Thought I'd come see me a moose instead!"

Sam chuckled, looking back down at his phone and sending out another message. He was just tired, now:

_You know I care, but this is just one of those things I can't get around._

Not that he was really putting in the effort to get around it; Jess was right about that. He really just didn't care anymore. Especially not with the reason for his change of heart sitting atop his desk, sucking extremely _suggestively_ on a cherry red sucker and watching him like a piece of meat.

Or candy. Candy was probably more realistic where Gabriel was concerned.

Either way, Gabriel looked like the starved man seeing food for the first time in forever, and Sam wasn't sure he minded. At all.

The warning bell for first period rang then, and Gabriel heaved a dramatic sigh as he hopped off Sam's desk while Sam shook himself from his fantasies revolving around all sorts of syrups and Gabriel and what he could and couldn't do with that tongue of his, heading for the door backwards and grinning at Sam as he went. "See ya later, Sammoose!"

"Yeah," Sam wheezed, waving him off mindlessly and hoping his flushed cheeks weren't as obvious as he felt they were. As he stared after Gabriel, his phone buzzed again, and the smile he could feel on the corners of his lips dropped as he pulled up the latest message, pinching the bridge of his nose:

_You kno what? Im done with this. If ur not even gonna make the effort then maybe we should call it quits. U obviously dont care, so fine. Were done._

Funny thing was, Sam couldn't find it in himself to even be upset by it. He actually felt lighter and freer, and he pursed his lips in thought as he considered how to make it sound like he was mildly devastated about losing Jessica even when he couldn't be bothered to give a rat's ass about it.

He was single again. And, if he kept up with the gossip that Dean would totally never let him hear the end of again if he found out he listened to, Gabriel was too.

Not that that mattered.

Much.

And really, he couldn't even bring himself to pretend it bothered him , so he sent one last text to his ex, and put the phone on silent for the rest of the class period:

_Fine. I don't care, like you said. Have a nice life._

Suffering through Junior-level trigonometry was definitely not very high up on Sam's _Man, You Have Got To Try This_ list, and he felt almost ready to rip his hair out each time he was called on, which was often because he was the only one in the goddamn class that even knew what the teacher was talking about (_thanks, Dean; you turned me into a math nerd_). The only reprieve he found was in the random texts he started receiving from Gabriel— _How'd you even get my number? _he'd asked; _Cassie of course! ;)_ he'd been answered— throughout the period, and he'd had to choke back a laugh at a few of the jokes he read.

And if Sam wasn't in love yet, he was well on his way there.

As the bell dismissing class rung, Sam was up and out of the room before everyone else, slipping through the converging masses as the student body filled the hallways. He made his way to Ellen's class, smiling as he felt a buzz in his pocket, pulling his phone out as he slid into his seat next to Castiel.

"You seem happy today, Sam." Castiel's voice was low and rough like usual, but it made Sam jump nearly out of his seat when it came unexpectedly. Castiel blinked at him as he fumbled with his phone, tilting his head in that way he did when he was confused. "I'm sorry to have startled you. Are you alright?"

Laughing at himself, Sam sent a reply to Gabriel before shoving the phone back in his pocket. "I'm great. Much better than Tuesday."

"Ah. Did you work out your issue with Jessica?"

"I guess so," he said, leaning back to stretch his legs into the aisle between the rows of desks. "She broke up with me 'cause she felt I didn't care enough about her anymore."

Another head tilt. "You don't seem upset about that."

"I'm not, really," he admitted, looking up to the front of the class to watch their classmates trickle in. "This was probably a long time coming, anyway. It hadn't been working for a while."

"Well." Sam couldn't help but chuckle at his friend's lost expression, no doubt the warring ideas of what a breakup usually signified and how Sam seemed to be handling it causing him to reevaluate his entire life. "I-I'm happy that it has been resolved."

"Thanks." Sam threw a smile towards him, listening as the bell rung for the start of class, and he turned himself back towards the front of the room as Ellen walked in, shushing the others with a glare before diving right into the review for the midterm.

When they were partway through a discussion of one of the key battles during some war or another, Sam glanced over to Castiel, who looked like he wanted to ask him something and wasn't sure if he were allowed. Sam gave him a smile and inclined his head, letting him know he was open to answer anything, and Castiel bit his lip for a moment before relenting as Ellen turned to the other side of the room.

"I don't want to pry, but may I ask what seemed to be problematic within the relationship?" he asked quietly. "You seemed very happy with Jessica, and I only wish to ascertain that it wasn't something more dire than made out."

Sam took a moment to pick apart his friend's worries and translate them to something he could more easily answer. "Well," he started, trailing off as he thought about how much he actually wanted to tell. Castiel was his friend, and Sam knew he wouldn't go telling anyone if he asked him not to, but Gabriel was Castiel's _brother._ He snorted at that, remembering Tuesday at lunch. They both seemed to have a thing for the other's older brother. Awesome.

"I… I guess I kind of…" He really didn't want to say, but at the same time he felt Castiel should know. Sam knew about his feelings on Dean, so it was only fair. "I guess I kind of realized I didn't love her as much as I thought," he finally muttered, feeling extremely uncomfortable. He was definitely more open about his feelings than Dean, but it still wasn't something he enjoyed discussing.

"There is someone else?" Castiel suggested after a pause.

Sam nodded slowly, glad for Castiel's ability to somehow read into the situation at times. "I guess you could say that. It's really just a crush, but it's the reason I really wasn't just pushing to go visit Jess over break. He doesn't know, though."

"'He'?" Castiel picked up on it immediately. "Who? If I may," he added.

Sam shot his friend a look, biting his lip before mentally telling his inner-Dean who was shouting at him to not say a word to go fuck himself and grow a pair. "Yeah. Your brother, actually. Gabriel."

Wow, when did awkward become something he could tangibly purchase at the nearest QuikTrip? Sam was just thankful that Castiel wasn't one for sudden audible exclamations of surprise, because with as wide as his eyes were, he felt they'd draw in plenty of questions and attention.

As it were, Castiel simply stared at him for a long moment, and Sam in turn stared forward at Ellen, waiting for his friend's comment on the fact that he had a fucking crush on _Gabriel_ of all people.

"I believe you should approach him about it, Sam" is what Castiel finally said, and Sam's head whipped around to stare at him incredulously.

"Are you crazy?" he hissed, almost hysterically. "I don't have a death wish, dude!"

The signature head tilt was back, and Castiel's eyes had narrowed once again. "I don't see how telling Gabriel will result in your death," he said slowly. "In fact, I believe something close to the opposite would come of it."

"Yeah, right," Sam scoffed, sneering down at his notebook filled with notes of the review, or as far as he was able to get before Castiel had asked his question. "'Cause the feeling's mutual, of course." When Castiel didn't come back with a rebuttal, Sam turned a quirked eyebrow on him, feeling his heart quicken in what he recognized was hopeful excitement, and he tried to beat it into submission before he was crushed completely. "No. He can't possibly like me too." Gabriel had a crush too, for crying out loud! It couldn't possibly be—

Castiel shuffled in his seat, and while Sam didn't know him too well, he'd been friends with him long enough to know that was a sign of Castiel trying to decide whether to just come out and say what he wanted, or if it would be more beneficial to let the chips fall where they may.

"I don't believe I'm at liberty to say one way or another," he finally settled on, and Sam's eyes widened. "You really must speak with him about it. All I will say is that it would be most certainly worth your time and effort."

It was then Sam figured out that Castiel would know who Gabriel had that crush on and this was simply his way of telling Sam without actually telling Sam, so he could say that he had indeed not "told" Sam, in so many words.

And if that didn't just light up Sam's day and mood and insides and every other goddamn dark place on the Earth, he didn't know what would.

The bell dismissing them barely registered in his consciousness as he sat staring into nowhere, a smile on his face. Movement from Castiel prompted him to jump up with his things, following his best friend out into the hall and to their next class.

"Thanks, Castiel," he murmured quietly as they headed down the hall, and he smiled at the acknowledging nod he received in turn. Remembering that they were almost in class with Jo, who— bless her heart— could not keep a secret properly to save her life, Sam jumped in front of Castiel as they headed for their seats. "Don't tell Jo, though, okay? I-I wanna find the right time to talk to him myself."

Castiel only nodded. "Of course, Sam. It is not my place to discuss your private life anyway. I respect your decision to take as long as you need."

"Thanks, man," he said again, and they flopped into their chairs as Jo ran in, looking put out but also excited for something Sam expected to hear in-depth about soon enough.

"Hey, guys! Guess what?" The excitement was almost as tangible as the awkwardness of last class period, and Sam smirked at her.

"Chicken butt?" he guessed and laughed as Jo smacked his arm.

"No, you asswipe," she huffed, rolling her eyes, but her smile was still in place. "I just received my own invite to the party this weekend! I'm pretty sure it's open invite, but Meg's actually making rounds! She told me to make sure you knew you're expected there too, Sammy."

Sam made a face reminiscent of a bitchface, but not quite as intense. "Expected? Why?"

Jo shot him a look. "Winchester, _duh._ Everyone knows Dean's dragging your ass there, anyway."

"I wanna see him try," Sam muttered, rolling his eyes. "Maybe I wanna stay home this weekend."

"My brother will be there," Castiel spoke up, sounding bored and like he had a million better things to be doing, but Sam didn't miss his pointed stare. "Meg promised alcohol, and Gabriel won't miss the chance to attempt to humiliate me in front of people I don't know."

Sam could only hope Jo hadn't seen the small smile at the mention of Gabriel that had emerged before he hid it away again, though it was hard when at that moment his phone was buzzing in his pocket again. "Oh, well, now I'll _have_ to go. Can't miss the Epic Humiliation of Castiel Novak now, can I?"

Jo cracked up with him at Castiel's pout and wide eyes, similar to those of a young puppy. "It is not a laughing matter, Sam," he chastised, and Sam just laughed harder. "You would not appreciate if Dean did something similar to you, would you?"

Sam wiped his eyes, giving Castiel a look of his own. "Dude, I think next to Gabe, Dean would be the Master of Pranks. And I grew up with that."

Castiel continued his pouting as Mr. Roman swept in, Jo and Sam trying to stifle their laughter at their friend's expense. Sure, Sam had grown up with Dean, but Castiel had grown up with Gabriel himself— _the Trickster_, as he was known around the school. He was probably who Gabriel experimented on, now that Sam thought about it, and he couldn't decide whether to feel bad or laugh some more at the image of a young Gabriel chasing an even younger Castiel around.

He was in dire need of Dean's overcompensation in manliness when he caught himself nearly cooing at the thought of a young Gabriel, though.

Just no.

Left to their own devices for the class period, Sam continued sending and receiving texts as the three of them quietly conversed while making it look like they were doing important things up until the bell rang, dismissing them for lunch. He followed Castiel and Jo to the cafeteria, trying not to be obvious about glancing around the open area and searching the tables as he plopped down at their usual table, nodding and smiling in greeting at Anna and Chuck, and wishing yet again he wasn't taller than literally everybody else in the school when Becky Rosen— who was_Chuck's girlfriend_; jeez, what was up with all the "looking elsewhere" these days? No one was satisfied anymore (_like he could talk_)— squealed and tried to attack him. Again.

At least Castiel looked like he felt mildly bad about their favorite Person To Avoid At All Costs, giving Sam an encouraging smile as Jo and Anna began discussing the upcoming party, leaving him to have his ear talked off by their resident fangirl because unfortunately Charlie had Student Council duties all week (they were literally an entirely different species, fangirls. Sam was convinced of this, and nothing would ever change his opinion. Ever). Chuck was no help whatsoever as he sat with his writing, and Sam shot a betrayed look over at his best friend when Castiel simply sat there staring wistfully across the room at Dean instead, which Sam found both hilarious as hell and sort of creepy, but hey, to each his own.

It was still creepy, though.

"I'm not sure who looks more distressed—" came a voice behind him, and Sam had to shoot down the urge to grin and turn around as an arm propped itself on top of his head. Gabriel gave his sucker— seriously, he must've had an endless supply with as many as he ate in a day. _Where did he even keep them all?_— another slurp before continuing, "— Cassie with his lovesickness or you and the Fangirl from Hell, Sammich."

Becky went quiet and wide-eyed, and Jo and Anna both snickered as Sam rolled his eyes and Castiel shot a narrow-eyed glare at his brother. Sam could feel the warmth of the senior leaning on him, and he was trying to control the urge to lean back into him. But those _slurps._ Sam was having trouble concentrating on the immediate moment as his imagination struggled to run off without him.

"It is not 'lovesickness'," Castiel muttered, turning his eyes back across the room, and Sam was sure the blue in them lit up as he looked at Dean. Wow, that was kind of weird to think about._Awkward. _"And I am not distressed," he added absently, though by his tone he wasn't fooling anyone.

Sam could almost feel Gabriel's eye roll as Becky let out a small exclamation of "I knew it!" under her breath at Chuck. "Sure, Cassie. Denial ain't just a river in Egypt, you know."

Sam couldn't help his snort at the confused head tilt. "'Denial' isn't a river at all, Gabriel. The river in Egypt is the Nile; 'denial' is the state of refusing to accept facts or the situation for what they are."

"I rest my case," Gabriel scoffed, and Sam felt him stand straight, immediately missing his warmth. "Anyway, I didn't come over here to debate exactly what your feelings on Chucklehead over there are— _that_ is a battle lost before it's even started."

"Then what _did_ you come over here for?" Anna smirked, looking pointedly at the arm now resting on Sam's shoulder, having slid down from his head.

"Why, to keep the company of this lovely moose here, of course!" Gabriel laughed, Sam feeling his face flushing slightly. "You looked like you needed saving, Sammykins." Sam felt Gabriel nudge his shoulder. "Even the bravest of Sasquatch have fallen to the terror that is Fangirl over here."

Becky just shot them a wink and they laughed, Gabriel coming around to perch himself on the table between Sam and Castiel. He stuck his sucker in his mouth again, throwing Sam a wink as he licked it like he had the other during first period, smiling at Sam's resulting blush. _Fucking flirt. _"So, everyone's gonna be at Meg's this weekend, right?"

A chorus of mumbled consent went around the table, some enthusiastic while the rest was half-hearted and even reluctant. Sam himself was only mildly looking forward to the party, and that was only because Gabriel was going to be there. As he thought about that, he realized that wouldn't be too awful a time to maybe approach him about his feelings— _cringe_— like Castiel had suggested. Seeing the wide smile Gabriel was sending his way, and taking into account the flirting that had been going on recently, he felt confident that Castiel really thought he had a chance. Sure, Castiel would probably know who Gabriel liked, but there was also the chance that he didn't, and Sam knew better than to get his hopes up _that_ high.

Dean would never let him live it down if he knew Sam was fretting like a little girl.

_Sigh._

The lunch period finished out with light conversation over several topics of no importance, and Sam bid Castiel and Gabriel a short "see you later" when Dean walked over to walk to class together. He didn't manage to hide the embarrassed flush of his face when Gabriel shot him one last wink and explicitly swirled his tongue around his sucker with a pointed look at Sam, and Dean leered at him, waggling his eyebrows as they headed to their shared Physics class.

"Shut up, jerk," he muttered, sliding into his seat.

"Didn't say anything, bitch." Dean flopped down into his seat, sticking his tongue out at Sam's bitchface. "But seriously, Sammy," he continued, furrowing his brow in concern, "I know that look you were giving the midget. Same one you had when you met Jess the first time." His look was pointed, and Sam crossed his arms and looked away.

"So?" he muttered. Of course Dean wouldn't want to ignore the matter like normal, oh no.

"_So,_" Dean drawled, "what's up with that?"

Sam managed up until the warning bell. Really, he thought it was an accomplished feat itself to ignore Dean's _I'm Your Older Brother And I Only Want You Happy So You Better Grow A Pair And Tell Me _look for a whole three minutes. He let out a long sigh. "_Fine, _jerk," he grumbled, watching as the rest of the class slowly filled. "Jess ended it and I may or may not have a crush on Gabe. _Happy?_"

Sam wanted to laugh at the torn expression on his brother's face when he looked over, Dean trying to decide whether to tackle the "Jess ended it" part or the "crush on Gabe" part first. Jess won out. "When'd she end it?" he finally asked, keeping his voice down as the teacher walked in.

"Earlier today, first period," Sam sighed, slumping in his seat. "She thought I didn't care enough about her anymore." He shrugged. "Guess she wasn't wrong."

Dean made a face. "Yeah, that. How'd _that_ happen?" He paused as a shudder passed through him, and Sam rolled his eyes. "No, scratch— _why,_ Sammy?" he begged, face screwed in a mix of despair and disbelief. "Why _him_? I mean c'mon— _Gabriel. Really._"

Sam snorted with another eye roll. "He's not that bad, Dean. He's actually really funny when you get on his good side." He smiled faintly down at his desk as the teacher started their review. "Plus, he's kinda cute, I guess. I don't know."

Dean was making gagging noises under his breath. "_Riiight._ Jeez, I always knew I had a little sister."

Sam shoved him in the shoulder, nearly knocking him out of his seat, but his smile was still in place. "Jerk."

"Bitch," Dean sneered, but his tone was teasing like always, and Sam knew that if it made him happy, Dean was okay with Gabriel, or at least Sam having a crush on him. "So, you gonna tell him?" he asked a little while later.

Sam glanced over at his brother. "Dunno. Castiel said I should. Said it'd be worth the risk of rejection."

"Castiel?" Dean frowned in though before his eyes lit up in recognition. "Oh, the guy with really blue eyes and perpetual sex hair, right? The dick's little bro?"

Sam wasn't sure whether to smirk and laugh at his brother's description of his best friend or be offended on Gabriel's behalf. Figuring Gabriel could be offended for himself, he snorted instead. "Yeah, him. My _best friend._"

Dean waved him off. "Whatever, princess. He said you should? Does he know something you don't?"

Sam shrugged. "He kinda implied it that way, yeah. He told me it'd be worth the effort to talk to him about it, and when I told him it sounded like a Really Bad Idea—" Eugh, capital letters; Dean snorted, "— he'd insisted and sort of not-said that Gabe— who apparently has a crush right now— is crushing on, well, _me._ Just not in so many words."

"Dude, _I_ coulda told you that," Dean scoffed, smirking at him. "The way he was eyeing you up as he mouthed that sucker of his? Yeah, you don't do that if you don't want a piece o' the goods."

Sam shoved his brother again, flushing in embarrassment at the image. "Dude, you're such an ass."

"At least I don't have midgets after mine."

Sam bit back retorting with _No, just a guy with "really blue eyes and perpetual sex hair" who's been in love with you since the beginning of fucking _time— he was pretty sure Castiel wouldn't appreciate his feelings being leaked to the object of his (_so fucking apparent why hadn't Sam seen it sooner_) affection— and instead sent Dean a bitchface before turning back to the review for the remainder of their class.

Dean, thankfully, decided to behave himself, which meant Sam only had to deal with him groaning under his breath about how fucking pointless the review was and how he had other things he could be doing and shooting the occasional spit wad at the back of his head— overall, a pretty calm class period. When the bell rang, Sam gathered his things and walked out behind his brother, who saluted as he walked off to his Calculus class— _with Castiel_, his mind supplied randomly, and he couldn't help but smirk; Dean had _so _been making eyes the last couple of weeks, and Sam was sure he didn't think Sam had noticed, but, well, joke was on him because it was _so fucking obvious— _and Sam rolled his eyes as he made his way to Home Ec and slid into his chair next to Charlie, who was on her phone.

"You're never gonna believe this," he started, pulling out his notebook as Charlie spared him a brief glance. He hadn't had a chance to talk to her since the week before all the meetings had started taking up all her time, and he felt it was Time_._

God help him.

"You finally realized your rainbow gayness?"

Sam paused. "Well, yeah. But I'm getting there," he added, watching her eyes widen and a smirk start to take over her features. "First, Castiel is totally crushing on Dean, and they've been making eyes for like, the last week or two. Blatantly."

Charlie set her phone down and had to hold in a gleeful cackle. "Oh, I _knew_ it! I totally called it!" She clapped her hands together. "It's be so _obvious._"

"That's what I said," he agreed with an exasperated eye roll. "I mean, yeah, Dean's still with Lisa, but it's falling apart, and I don't know if he thinks he's hiding it from me or what, but the little glances and smiles he's been sending _my best friend's _way for the last couple weeks aren't exactly subtle." Sam was just pretending to be nice enough to _not_ say anything, 'cause really, until Dean wanted to man up to it himself, _that _was a conversation that wasn't gonna go anywhere but to the corner of Awkward and Embarrassing by the little shop called Frustration by Emotionally Stunted Older Brothers.

Yeah, no. Sam valued his sanity, _thank you very much_.

Charlie hummed in agreement as the bell rang to start class, the teacher scurrying in in a hectic rush. "Yeah, I'm surprised little hearts don't erupt from their asses every time they make eye contact. It's almost painful, really."

"Tell me about it. I mean, it was only pointed out to me on Tuesday, and I've been kicking myself because _obvious_."

She laughed. "Yeah. But theirs is the story we all know and love to return to because it's the most predictable thing in the world, so I wanna hear all about your revelation. What's this about realizing your rainbow gayness?" She quirked an eyebrow.

Sam rolled his eyes again, feeling his cheeks flush as he thought about his own object of affection and the flirting he'd had to endure the entire day. "Yeah, about that. Well, Dad skipped out at the beginning of the week, and you know how we're not allowed long road trips without him?" She nodded— as one of the few people he and Dean were close enough to really trust, Charlie knew all about their dad— and he continued, "Well, I'd had plans to stay with Jess over break, but since he up and left, that was taken out of the plan. She was understandably upset, wondering why I couldn't just come up anyway, and I guess I just wasn't trying hard enough or whatever, 'cause she broke up with me first period today."

Charlie nodded along with the story. "Hm, and why exactly weren't you trying hard enough?"

He fiddled with his phone as the review carried on around them— seriously, Home Ec was almost a joke class— staring down at his hands. "Gabriel Novak."

A beat of silence passed before Sam felt a hit to his shoulder and looked over, Charlie's face bright as she grinned at him, bringing out a hesitant smile of his own. "_Sam~!_" she cooed, and he snickered. "Oh, man, I'm going to kill every single person on the Student Council for keeping me away from this! I should have been there for _both_ of you when this came out!" She sighed dramatically. "Does he know?"

Sam shook his head. "Not yet. I mean, he's been flirting nonstop for a while now, and I only just found out he kind of has a crush, too."

"On _you?_" she asked, looking at him intently.

He shrugged. "Castiel implied it, yeah. I'm really hoping he's right. I think I may mention it this weekend."

"At Meg's party?"

"Yeah."

She nodded in understanding, propping her chin in her hand. "Well, I wish you luck. You two'd make an absolutely adorable couple." She smiled cheekily, nudging him in the ribs and he laughed as he batted her away. "Really. Y'all's height difference is the best thing _ever_— I bet he's gonna fit perfectly curled up in those arms of yours."

He scrunched his face into a mild approximation of the Bitchface TM, faking gagging sounds. "Too much sap, man! Cut back!"

Sniggering quietly, Charlie just punched him again. "You're a wimp, Winchester. _Embrace the gay._"

They tried to retain their laughs after that, turning to pretend they were paying attention to the teacher for the rest of the lesson. In reality, Charlie went back to texting whoever she'd been talking to earlier, and Sam contented himself with trading texts with Gabriel, who was skipping his classes and just generally being a nuisance like always, except that Sam couldn't pull the smile off his face as he pictured him licking on that damned sucker as he watched the toilet he'd shoved a cherry bomb in explode; or breaking off a piece of chocolate at a time as he waited for whatever teacher he was harassing to realize they had a note taped to their back reading something along the lines of _Cover me in syrup and eat me like a pancake_; or stuffing his face with handfuls of Skittles and M&Ms as a stink bomb went off in one of the Chemistry labs and half the Science hall had to evacuate.

Those really had been some epic pranks, Sam had to admit. He'd laughed behind closed lips for almost ten minutes straight that day.

Even Dean had looked impressed.

At the last bell of the day releasing them into the world, Sam slung his bag over his shoulder, making his way out of the throng of students to the student lot and the Impala, smiling down at his phone as he leaned against the passenger door to wait for Dean.

"Okay, Samantha. Stop making googly eyes at your boyfriend's texts." Dean was smirking at him as he approached, and Sam rolled his eyes. "I know you're only thirteen, but you should know not to put out until he buys you dinner."

"Shut up, jerk," Sam grumbled, unable to keep the grin off his face as he slid into the Impala, Dean revving her engine before backing out to wait in the line of cars ready to leave. "And you know the rule's not to put out until the third date."

"That's if you want an _actual _relationship, princess."

"Uh, _duh._" Wow, Dean could be so immature. "Just 'cause you have the emotional range of a rock doesn't mean _I _do, Dean."

"Hey," Dean whined, and Sam would forever swear he was totally pouting. No matter what Dean insisted. "I know how to be romantic and shit, you little bitch. It's just usually too much effort." He grin was self-satisfied, and Sam could only groan.

"I don't know how anyone could ever possibly like you, jerk. You must use magic or something."

"It's all in my charm, bitch."

Sam snorted. "What charm?" But he was in too good a mood for it to be anything other than teasing, and Dean's smirk was still pronounced on his lips as they pulled out of the lot, headed for home. Dean would head back out an hour or so later to hang with his friends at the café, and Sam would do his homework—

No, wait— Castiel worked at the café! Sam was totally tagging along if only to start pointing out the obvious to his oblivious brother. Sam could see it in Dean's eyes that whatever he thought he felt for Lisa was long gone, but the spark hadn't died; it had simply figured out it was lighting for the wrong person.

And wow, if that didn't sound girly and sappy as shit.

Sam shifted discreetly to make sure he could still feel his junk and totally didn't even complain when Dean turned up the volume when _Highway To Hell_ started blasting through the speakers.

God, he really _was_ a girl.

Resisting the urge to groan dramatically— really, _literal thirteen-year-old princess Samantha Winchester_— and bury his face in his hands, Sam pointedly glared as morosely as he could out the window at the passing little town, watching the grey, snow-cloud-filled sky seem to undulate ominously overhead. They were predicting at least four inches in the next two days, with another foot or two by the time Christmas actually arrived. It was gonna be cold and wet and miserable, but it would be white, and Sam was alright with the thought of a legit white Christmas this year.

Something to look forward to if the weekend didn't pan out the way he hoped it did.

Speaking of, Sam wasn't particularly thrilled with the knowledge that he was gonna have to tell Dean he was _actually_ thinking of asking Gabriel out. Like, for _real_. On Saturday. In two days.

_Sigh again._

As they pulled up in front of their house, Sam exited the Impala, making sure to not slam the door so Dean wouldn't start bitching at him for real— he'd heard _that_ speech approximately five times just in the last couple of days; he could practically recite it verbatim— and stomping through the cold air to the front door, Dean behind him. He tossed his bag down beneath the coat rack next to the door, kicking his shoes off as he headed for the kitchen to look for something to eat.

Dean wandered in behind him, going to the fridge as Sam pulled out a box of cereal and catching the milk as his brother tossed it to him. "You mind if I tag along to the café with you later?" he asked, pouring the cereal into a bowl, the milk going in on top of it.

He could see Dean shrug with his head still stuck in the fridge. "Doesn't matter to me, princess," he replied, shuffling through the containers of leftovers from dinners over the past week. He finally settled on what Sam thought was the macaroni with bacon bits, turning to face his little brother with a teasing leer. "Can't stay away from your _tea,_ huh?"

"Hey," Sam shrugged, smirking back as he took his cereal to the kitchen table. "What can I say? Castiel makes great lattes."

Dean snorted, spooning out the macaroni onto a plate and shoving it in the microwave. "I thought you had a boner for the midget."

Rolling his eyes, Sam settled for glaring in his most unimpressed way at his brother's back. "One, his name's Gabriel, and compared to me, _you'd_ be the midget older brother, too, so shut up." Dean turned an approximation of the Bitchface TM on him, but Sam ignored it. "Two, you don't really wanna know whether I get it up for him or not anyway, so again, shut up."

"Ew, God, Sammy— _brain bleach!_"

Sam smirked, eating a bite of his cereal as Dean snatched his meal from the microwave and joined him at the table. Swallowing, he continued, "Three, I can enjoy my best friend's coffee-making prowess and _not_ have a stupid crush on him, thank you very much, jerk." He snickered at Dean's mocking and eye roll, feeling a hint of mischievousness roll through him. "Besides, we both know _I'm _not the one with the stupid crush on _'really blue eyes and perpetual sex hair_', don't we, _Dean._"

The sputter that erupted from Dean had Sam rolling out of his seat onto the floor, clutching his sides as he gasped through his guffaws. "_Shut up,_ Samantha!" Dean finally growled at him, and Sam composed himself long enough to push himself back into his seat. He almost fell out again at his brother's red face, staring pointedly down at his macaroni. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure, Dean," Sam rolled his eyes. "Because your making eyes has been _so_ subtle."

Dean just stabbed at his food, not making eye contact, and Sam thought it was a win that he hadn't outright denied it. It was definitely progress over the last time Sam had mentioned him making eyes at some guy— _that _was an experience he'd gladly go to Hell to avoid having to live through again. _Nothing_ was worth _that__._

"It's not really working with Lisa anymore, anyway," Dean muttered after a while, and Sam's head shot up to look at him, wide-eyed. It wasn't often Dean willingly mentioned his problems, especially if they were of the feelings nature, and Sam was afraid if he made the wrong noise Dean would shut back up. "We're together, yeah, but we haven't been _together_ in a while."

Sam was proud of him for not even choking through the admission. "So why are you…?"

Dean shrugged, picking at his macaroni, pulling out the bacon and tossing it in his mouth. "Habit by now, I guess."

Sam nodded, scooping another bite of his cereal into his mouth. He could understand; it had been a while since Dean had let himself fall into something comfortable, something routine other than looking after Sam. And if there was one thing Sam knew, it was that Dean stubbornly went against anything that changed his routine.

"Well, whatever, man," Sam sighed eventually, and he didn't miss the grateful look in his brother's eyes as he dropped the subject. There had been an abundance of chick-flick moments over the course of the day, and Sam was decidedly _done_ with the sharing of feelings for a little while. "I'm still coming with. Epic lattes, man."

Dean smirked, finishing off his leftovers as Sam scraped the last of the milk from his bowl, and they both headed to the sink to fight over who's turn it was to wash the dishes. "You're such a girl, Sammy."

"Love you too, jerk."

After the Great Sink Battle— which Sam lost, but only because Dean so totally cheated— Sam and Dean split for a little while to tackle homework (Sam) and watch TV (Dean) until Dean glanced at the clock and shouted for Sam that they were going. Sam trundled down the stairs, sliding his jacket on and following his brother out to the Impala. He decided he'd been nice enough the rest of the day and complained the entire way to the café about not being able to listen to the music _he _wanted to listen to, and how Dean's stupid radio rule was stupid and _Jeez, we listen to Metallica _all the frickin' time, _jerk _and _Rules are rules, princess; driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole. Now _shut it_, bitch._

Frickin' older brothers.

The café was just as crowded as it had been Tuesday when Sam had gone with Dean, which meant it was full of his fellow classmates scattered about inside, chatter filling the warm air filled with the aroma of seasonal fragrances like peppermint and apple cinnamon and Pumpkin Spice because everyone had learned _that_ secret early on and still wanted it despite it now being winter and not October.

Sam may have not been a peppermint-in-his-drinks advocate, but he did enjoy the smell when snow was on the ground and he could smell the cold when he walked outside. It was sharp, crisp, and it pulled him out of the lethargic hibernation state he tended to find himself in when wrapped up in warm blankets with Dean's homemade hot cocoa.

He had to admit, his brother could be pretty cool sometimes.

Walking into the little place, Sam immediately caught the bright eyes of his best friend, and he smiled with a brief wave as he stood in line behind a couple of people he recognized vaguely from his Trig class. Dean had left him for Lisa, who hadn't even glanced up when he came in and seemed sort of distracted as he placed a kiss on her cheek and told her he'd get their drinks.

When he turned around, Sam watched as Lisa went right back to her phone and friends, hardly sparing a glance after her boyfriend, and he didn't miss the slight quirk of Dean's lips as he caught Castiel's eyes, coming to stand next to Sam in line. Sam frowned to himself and Dean noticed, quirking an eyebrow.

"What?"

Sam just shook his head. "Nothing, man."

"No, that wasn't a 'nothing' look." Dean frowned, shoving him in the shoulder lightly. "Out with it— what?"

"I dropped it, Dean," Sam warned, glancing pointedly up at Castiel who was filling an order with concentration, though Sam was sure he caught his blue eyes glancing up worriedly at them. Well, at Dean, but whatever. "Don't push what you don't wanna face."

Luckily, Dean was smarter than he came across eighty percent of the time and his jaw snapped as a bit of red rose to his cheeks, and Sam shook his head. His brother was so fucking _thick_, sometimes.

"Dude, no one would judge you, you know," he said lowly, stepping forward as the line moved.

Dean shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. "I _know_, Sammy," he grunted, giving Sam a pointed look. Wow, stuff was really _pointed_ today. He huffed a long sigh as they moved forward again. "But I just… I've never even talked to him, Sammy."

He wasn't sure what possessed him to say it, but as Sam reached the front of the line, smiling at Anna as she came to stand behind the register after handing Castiel the most recent orders to fill, he turned to Dean with a Look. "He's going to Meg's party this weekend," he said nonchalantly, seeing Dean's eyes dart between him and Castiel, who was grimacing beneath one of the speakers pouring out the god-awful Christmas tunes as he swirled whipped cream onto a cup. "It'd give you the chance."

Dean only bit his lip and nodded as Sam ordered the same drink he had on Tuesday, grinning at Anna and then at Castiel as he walked over to the pickup counter to wait on his latte. He heard Dean ordering his usual and Lisa's, and Sam fought a snicker as Castiel's face darkened into the equivalent of a sneer— because Castiel's non-expression expressions were hilarious— as he filled hers before brightening into someone who'd found the proverbial light as he did Dean's, looking at it warmly and with such affection Sam was glad he'd started teasing Dean and encouraged him to at least approach Castiel at the party. When he caught Dean smiling at him again as his order was called out, his brother's eyes shining with that same warmth and crinkling around the edges like they hadn't in so long because the smile actually _reached _his eyes, Sam _knew._

They were _so _meant for each other.

And yeah, he'd better go get his testosterone supplements before they headed home.

It was a great thing indeed that Dean couldn't actually read his thoughts. The teasing would probably have him planning his own murder. It had to be the holiday season getting to him. Yeah. That was it. Awesome. He only hoped Gabriel didn't mind having such a frickin' girl as his boyfriend.

Oh, he was screwed.

The sky was starting to darken as Dean and Sam finished their drinks, joking lightly between themselves and a few of their friends as they relaxed for the evening. Jo had shown up with Charlie at one point, dragging a reluctant-looking Ash behind them though they'd all settled with the Winchesters to joke about the midterms they were all planning on failing— because _fuck the system!_— and Meg's upcoming party. Sam just sat back and listened, smirking at everyone as they laughed, occasionally glancing up to see Castiel watching them— _Dean_— with a rueful look on his face as he went about making spruced-up coffee and enduring tacky Christmas carols. Sam's heart went out to him, it did, but he was glad he could get up and leave whenever he wanted.

Snow had begun its light fall as Dean and Sam bid their friends goodbye for the night, heading for the Impala after Dean forced a smile at a distracted Lisa and told her goodnight. Sam just shook his head yet again, having decided to just let the issues go and deal with them after he'd slept again. The cold was seeping into his bones, and he was ready to hibernate.

They made it home in relative silence, listening to Zeppelin this time, and Sam was content to lean his head against the window as Dean took them home. They hurried inside and shucked their jackets, both of them heading for their rooms, slowly trudging up the stairs to take hot showers and get in bed. With as often as their dad had made them be up at the buttcrack of dawn to get moving, both of them now treasured the luxury of heading to bed for a full eight hours of sleep.

"Sammy."

Sam turned to his brother, paused in the threshold of his room as he looked back at Dean. "Yeah?"

"Thanks." Dean quirked a smirk at him. "For— you know."

Understanding lit up inside him and Sam nodded. "Always, Dean."

"And—" Dean bit his lip, and Sam waited. "I— I think you should go for it. Him. Shortstack. Gabriel. You know."

Sam couldn't help but chuckle at his brother's uncomfortable shuffling as he talked about _feelings._ Man, they were both hopeless, really. "Thanks, man. Means a lot." And it really did; Dean was practically giving Sam his blessing and hoping it worked out, even if he didn't always get along with Gabriel. If it made Sam happy, Dean would deal. No questions.

They shared another nod and continued into their rooms, Sam smiling as he stripped out of his clothes before sliding under his comforter. As he laid there, his phone vibrated against his nightstand, and Sam sighed as he reached for it, unlocking it to read the message. He smiled even wider as he saw Gabriel's name:

_Night Samsquatch! Dont let the bedbugs get any of that delectable moose-caboose, ya hear? ;)_

Sam rolled his eyes, setting the phone aside without replying and rolling onto his side.

Saturday could really not come soon enough.


	4. Chapter Three

**Yo! It's Thursday! UPDATE DAY. **

**Sorry this was out a little later than normal. Classes are a bitch, getting settled in for the first week. Anyway, have an update!**

**Also, I do realize that normal American high school students aren't actually allowed to purchase alcohol (and therefore imbibe), but, well, it wouldn't be very clichéd if teenagers didn't have Daddy's good Scotch at the party, right? Right. **

**Just go with it. It's Dean and Gabe, anyway, yeah?**

* * *

><p>.<p>

.

**Chapter Three: All I Want For Christmas Is You**

.

"Dean, seriously, where'd you put it?"

Slumping farther into the couch, Dean let out a low groan, keeping his eyes on the TV as he listened to Sammy moving around in another part of the house. This was the fourth time he'd been asked. "Where'd I put _what_, bitch?" he called back. _I don't know _wasn't flyin' with the little shit apparently, and if he could help it, he wasn't moving.

His brother walked into the room, hands on his hips and Dean couldn't hold back the snort at his housewife stance. Bitchface Number Five was in place. "I'm serious, you asshat. I can't find that shirt I _just_ got earlier this week." He made a gesture with his arm, and Dean just quirked an eyebrow. "_You _did laundry last— so what'd you do with it?"

Man, Heaven _forbid _Sammy just be able to grab a shirt off his floor that smelled decent like a normal guy. It was only a _Christmas party, _for fuck's sake! Dean rolled his eyes, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table as he turned back to the show he'd been enjoying before his little sister had interrupted with his _fashion crisis. _"I didn't do anything with it, princess. _You're _the one that sorts and hangs everything up like the woman you are."

Sammy groaned, turning on his heel and stomping back upstairs. "Fuck you too, jerk! Thanks for being a useless piece of shit!"

"You're welcome!" he shouted up the stairs, grinning as he returned to his— _very important, thank you very much_— marathon of stupid sitcom. He picked up his can of coke, downing the rest of it before letting out a loud burp and sliding even farther down in his seat.

He needed to remember to get Samantha some tampons the next time he was out.

Watching as the show ended and the credits rolled, Dean sat for another minute before pushing himself up onto his feet, taking his can and tossing it in the trashcan as he entered the kitchen, rolling his eyes as he walked to the laundry room and pulled out the basket of clean laundry he'd done the night before. Grumbling to himself, he picked up the shirt Sammy had gone out and bought, sneering at it as he trudged to and up the stairs and to his brother's room. He watched briefly as Sammy shifted through his dresser and closet, moving shirts around in his search.

"Here, bitch." Dean tossed the shirt at his brother as Sammy looked up, just managing to catch it in the face. "You can stop freakin' the fuck out over your outfit, princess. I'm pretty sure the midget's not gonna care."

The bitch just scowled at him, yanking the shirt he had on over his head and tossing it aside. "You're just jealous that you don't have anything other than band tees to impress Castiel with," he shot back, slipping the shirt Dean had tossed to him over his head. A smirk crossed his face. "Afraid he's not gonna be impressed?"

It was too bad Sammy had fast reflexes or that stick of deodorant Dean threw at his stupid face would've actually hit its mark. "Shut up, bitch," Dean muttered with a scowl, turning on his heel and heading to his own room, glancing down at the AC/DC shirt he had on. It was well-worn and comfortable, the letters hardly cracked even though he was sure he wore it at least twice a week. Actually, this was probably the second time he had it on _this _week.

It didn't even _smell_.

Dean also would've argued that Lisa never seemed to mind his shirts, but then he remembered that Lisa never seemed to mind _anything _about him anymore and continued grumbling to himself as he messed with his hair in front of his mirror. He knew he was attractive— his ass was definitely one of the more sought after and he was damn _proud_— and, really, it didn't actually matter what _Castiel_ thought about his choice of shirt, because Dean didn't dress for people like him, anyway.

Okay, so that was a load of utter bullshit, because if Dean was dressing for _anyone_, it was Castiel, because there was just _something _about his mussed dark hair that looked like he'd just come from a wild romp and his _electric blue _eyes that were so large Dean swore he could see into people's _souls_ just looking at 'em and the way he looked at _Dean _like he was the center of the fucking _universe _sometimes.

And that was _way _too chick-flick for two guys who'd never said two words to each other.

Letting out a frustrated huff, Dean yanked his shirt off, tossing it in his hamper and rifling through his dresser for his second-favorite shirt— Zeppelin was always a good choice— pulling it on and spritzing a pump of his favorite cologne against his chest. _Irresistible._ He smirked and grabbed his jacket as he headed back downstairs. Sammy was mucking around in the kitchen, clearing up the remnants of their dinner before they left, and Dean went into the living room to turn off the TV and lights before waiting for his brother in the front hall.

Dean grabbed the keys to the Impala when Sammy walked out, shrugging into his own coat, and they headed outside into the dropping temperatures. The sky was already pitch black behind the storm clouds, and Dean eyed them with a leer as he slid in behind the steering wheel. He ran a hand over it lovingly, smiling as he turned the key in the ignition, and Baby roared to life, settling into a contented purr as he backed into the street and headed for Meg's place.

"Um, are we not getting Lisa?"

Dean glanced over at Sammy, who was looking at him questioningly. "She said she was going out with friends for the day and would catch a ride there with them." He shrugged. "Made me no difference."

Really, he was kinda glad for it. It was almost uncomfortable to be around her anymore, with the distance that seemed to have come between them, but like he'd told Sammy, it was also habit, routine. And Dean was a creature of habit through and through, no doubt, but he couldn't exactly deny he wanted it to change.

Preferably with as little feelings discussed as possible, but he'd tackle that monster when it got there.

Thankfully, Sammy was a really cool little brother sometimes despite his bitchy princess-ness, and he just nodded in understanding and let it go as they drove across town. Dean actually would've been content to stay home and not go, but he had his stupid reputation and Sammy kept giving him the damn puppy eyes over the fact that the fucking ass-clown was going, and then the bitch had smirked and baited him with _Well, Castiel was _specifically _invited, you know_ and dammit all, the Sasquatch knew him too damn well.

There'd better be some fucking expensive shit there that Dean could drown himself in if he expected to survive the night.

There were already several cars parked along the curbs when Dean turned down the street where the party was taking place— he wasn't exactly friends with Meg (read: _he hated her guts because she was an evil she-demon_) but he _had _gone to the parties at her place every year like the good little popular guy he was—searching out a place where he could easily get Baby back out without any damage. He finally found a spot not too far down, and after making sure she was locked and no devious looking stragglers were hanging around, he followed Sammy up to the house, scrunching his face in a leer at the decorations.

They were welcomed into the house by their host, Meg waving them through and telling them to help themselves to whatever they could find in the kitchen, and that there were snacks and all sorts of foods to be found in the dining room. Dean immediately ditched Sammy for the alcohol he could hear calling his name, mapping out his plan to steal a bottle of whatever he could get his hands on first before searching out the promised food.

Dean did _not _exactly appreciate the pounding bass of the hipster pop songs playing throughout the house, but he did grudgingly admit they were better than the clichéd holiday tunes that were normally played at a function labelled _Christmas party. _

Maybe Meg wasn't _that _evil after all.

Still evil, though.

Eventually, he did find a table spread with bowls of chips and Chex Mix, along with other finger foods (he was _definitely _gonna go for the Pigs 'N Blankets at some point), and Dean didn't even hesitate to pick up the entire thing of apple pie as he walked past it, grabbing a fork and glaring at anyone who eyed him like he was insane.

For tonight, Meg was alright in his books.

Sammy just rolled his eyes when they met up sometime later, mingling with the growing crowd of students, friends and classmates and others that Dean was sure were probably in his classes but that he couldn't say for sure, the music— _thankfully_— beginning to be drowned out under the clamber of conversation increasing in decibels as the night wore on. Dean smirked with his mouth full of gooey _oh my God maybe Meg knew what she was doing huh she's not that bad_ cinnamon-apple filling and flakey crust that coated his tongue in warm, buttery goodness.

"You know, that was there for other people too." Sammy made a face.

Dean pointedly put another forkful in his mouth, moaning around the explosion of _Heaven _on his tongue. "Too bad for them, I guess."

Bitchface Number Thirteen made an appearance before the princess shook his head, tilting back a swig of the cheap-ass beer he'd chosen— _pansy-ass_— and wiping his mouth. "Whatever, jerk. I'm gonna go see if Gabe's here yet. I gotta…"

Dean waved him away, rolling his eyes when Sammy trailed off with a cough and stabbing another bite of pie with his fork. "Sure, bitch. Go confess your epic love or whatever."

The smirk and eyebrow waggle was unnecessary. "Like you haven't been looking out for Castiel this entire time," he taunted, walking out of the rec room where they'd found themselves as he went looking for his Prince Charming.

Dean didn't feel it was worth tossing his forkful of pie at his stupid brother's girly hair— that would just be a tragic waste, really— and instead shoved it into his mouth, frowning down at the plate that was now mostly empty. He was _not _pouting. Dean Winchester did not _pout_. And if his eyes swept the room for a dark head of hair that looked like hands had been running through it in the heat of passion and eyes bluer than the fucking ocean, well, no one but Sammy would know that, and the little shit was smart enough to know if he said _anything _no one would find his body.

Dean was more than confident of _that_.

When his search— _casual glance, dammit_— turned up fruitless, Dean finished off the sweet piece of perfection in his hands with a huff that may have devolved into a sort of pleased moan— _it was fucking _great _pie_— and walked back to the dining room to pile up a plate with the other snacks and stuff that was there, making sure to take at least half of the Pigs 'N Blankets.

He was in dire need of bacon. Bacon was awesome. Like pie, but he'd eaten that already.

Plate piled high, Dean made his way back to the rec room, where a group of his friends were gathered laughing together over some joke one of them had told. Ash was lounging across the couch in front of the TV while Benny was sprawled on the floor against the front of it, Lisa perched on the armrest while she chatted with Cassie. He caught sight of Jo with Anna, raising his cup when Jo looked over and flipped him off in greeting before she dragged the redhead up and out to another room.

Ash grumbled good-naturedly as Dean kicked his feet off one end of the couch, seating himself. "Dude, I was layin' there." Ash's words were slurred as he scooted himself over towards the girls, throwing his arm over the back.

"And now my ass is here, so stuff it." Dean grinned cheekily as he stuffed a handful of chips in his mouth.

Benny pulled himself up far enough to grab a handful of chips from Dean's plate before he could move it away, leering up at Dean as he tossed them one by one into his mouth. "Oh, I'm sure it's not your pretty ass you wanna stuff, brother." He winked. "Saw him walking in right before you came in if you wanna get to stuffin'."

Dean scowled as Ash sniggered, moving his plate out of reach and kicking the other snickering asshole in the leg. "Fuck off, Benny," he snapped, but he relaxed into the couch anyway, not willing to fight about it. He'd come to terms with his attraction to his brother's best friend, weird as it was, and, well. Lisa wasn't making faces or even _looking _at him, so he figured _fuck it. _

Granted, the Jack was doing an _amazing _job of helping him with those thoughts, but whatever.

Hell, he may not even need any of Jim at this rate.

They returned to tossing jokes and insults back and forth for a little while, but Dean couldn't get his mind off of sex hair and blue eyes as he threw back large gulps of alcohol and handfuls of chips, with the godsend creation that was a Pig 'N A Blanket every two chugs, trying to resist the urge to get up and go hunt down the object of his current fantasies.

Looked like he'd need Jim too, after all.

. . .

It had been quite an unfortunate thing that Castiel had not managed to get out of going to Meg's Christmas party later in the night. He'd been dreading the arrival of Saturday since she'd insisted he was showing up, and from the time he'd gotten up for the day— because just as unfortunately he couldn't just sleep the day away; he'd tried, but his body demanded movement— up until Gabriel had hunted him down, he'd stayed quiet and out of the way as much as he could.

It wasn't hard in a house the size his family's was, especially with Michael home the entire time and Lucifer showing up around lunchtime (_no one_ was idiotic enough to remain present with them), but Castiel tended to underestimate— _insanely_— just what lengths his older brother would go to in order to get what he wanted.

If Lucifer hadn't been the Devil incarnate, Gabriel would've stepped up to take the position with a laugh and smirk and all the pride in the world.

Castiel was only more convinced Lucifer was training him to do just that.

Sadly, Gabriel had dragged him out of the house in time to make it over to Meg's for the party; they lived close enough to her that they could walk, and Castiel had contented himself with watching the darkening clouds stir in the sky, preparing to release the flurries contained within. There were piles of snow already lining the streets and sidewalks, sticking to windows and roofs and lampposts and lit up by the garish Christmas lights hanging from the homes of those who were more enthusiastic about the season than Castiel's family. Even Meg's family had insisted on "keeping the spirit."

Meg had not been amused.

"I still don't see why I'm being forced to go." Castiel frowned up at the house, the windows lit from the inside by bright lights and obnoxious pounding bass pouring from the open front door and backyard. Despite the chilled temperature of the outside air, there were several people milling about, red SOLO cups clasped in their hands as they conversed. The lights hanging from the gutters glowed against the snow in red and yellow, green and blue, flashing in irritating patterns. "This is pointless."

"Lighten up, Cassie!" Gabriel pushed him on the shoulder, skipping ahead as they approached. "You need to let loose and have fun, little bro! We're here to pull that stick outta your ass!" Castiel shivered at the leering smirk shot his way. "And _maybe_ we'll even replace it with something more—"

"Please, Gabriel," Castiel winced, looking imploringly at his older brother. "Don't finish that sentence."

Gabriel just cackled, turning to walk into the house as they got to the door. Warmth met them in a loving embrace, and Castiel sighed gratefully, removing his coat and pulling the sleeves of his sweater down over his hands as he followed his brother into the foyer. "Whatever, little bro~ Let's get some alcohol in you and we'll go from there!"

"I think I can get behind that plan!" Meg sauntered up, two cups full of sloshing amber liquid in her hands as she swayed her hips to the beat of the music pumping out from the stereo system in the lounge. She was dressed in a warm red sweater that hugged her curves, her skirt tight above her leggings and her boots clicking against the hardwood flooring. Castiel took the cup thrust into his face to keep it from spilling, and Gabriel upended his as soon as it touched his fingers. "You're supposed to be having _fun_, Clarence!"

Castiel glowered down at the drink in his hand, able to smell the alcohol content from where he held it at his waist. "You know this is not my preferred idea of 'fun', Meg," he said. "I'm only here because I could not hide from Gabriel."

"It was a valiant effort, little brother!" Gabriel nodded at him, taking the cup from Castiel's hands and draining it as well. "But _I'm _the one who showed you all the good places to hide in the first place!" He waggled his eyebrows, and Castiel sighed in defeat. It was true.

Meg just laughed, placing a hand on his arm and leading him through the house. "You're a laugh, Clarence!" she giggled. Castiel could hear the slight slur of her words. "But c'mon! We're here to celebrate! Besides," they entered the kitchen, Gabriel running for the cooler as Meg turned to give him a knowing look, "_he's _hanging out in the rec room right now!" She winked.

Castiel resisted the urge to groan, but couldn't help glaring at her.

"Oh, c'mon!" She laughed again, going over to fill another couple of cups with the Jack Daniels sitting beside them. Oh. He hadn't realized she was going quite _that_ strong. "Everyone can see it's not working anymore anyway! They're probably gonna end things tonight, from what I can tell! You could be there to… _comfort _him in his time of need!"

"She's right, little brother!" Gabriel walked back over, two cups in hand and eyes bright. "Ain't no time like the present to act! Now, if you ladies will excuse me—" he shot a wink at both Castiel and Meg, "— I have me a moose to hunt down! Ta~!"

Castiel watched him saunter off, feeling forlorn and lost as he stood in the kitchen. Meg thrust another cup at him, and he took it without fight, feeling his shoulders slump. He felt a hand touch his arm, and he looked over at his friend giving him a soft, encouraging smile.

"Go on," she insisted, giving him a slight push. "At least go mingle! _Pretend_ you're a social creature!" With another smile, she walked out, heading for a group of her friends, and Castiel meandered out of the kitchen slowly, holding his cup of Jack Daniels delicately, with no intention to actually have any of it.

Not that it was strong enough to intoxicate a Novak at only one cup, but still.

Unsure of what else to do, Castiel wandered through the house, making his way to the den where he found clusters of students he was sure were in some of his classes sprawled around the sofas and ottomans, laughing at jokes and each other. He could see Jo and Anna, who'd come to the party together after their shopping spree earlier, lounging on the floor and speaking with their heads together. He thought briefly of joining them, if only so he wouldn't be standing in the middle of the hall and in everyone's way, but decided against it and turned on his heel, padding towards the large living room to see if he could find any of the other people willing to bear his presence.

He purposely kept his attention away from the rec room as he passed, feeling his chest clench as he heard the loud, familiar laugh of Dean erupt from the room, one he'd come to love hearing at the café when he and his friends were sitting around and teasing each other. He didn't particularly want to see Dean in there, his arm around Lisa as they enjoyed the party, and knowing he couldn't be in her place.

Actually, the drink in his hand was starting to look appealing. Maybe a sip or two wouldn't be so bad.

Shaking his head, Castiel entered the living room, glancing around to see that no one he knew was there and deciding that finding a nice corner of the floor to hide out in would be the perfect place to remain for the rest of the night. The floor was plush carpet of an off-white color, and the shelves were full of books that Meg's parents liked to collect. Castiel was sure she'd never touched them, but some of the titles seemed interesting, and it wouldn't be a poor way to pass the evening, in his opinion.

God, he was such a nerd.

With a long-suffering sigh, Castiel glared into his cup for a moment before bringing it to his lips and tossing his head back, feeling the burn of the alcohol as it travelled down his throat and warmed his limbs, settling pleasantly in his gut as he folded his legs and plopped down on the carpet, leaning against the shelves on one side of the flat screen on the wall.

He was going to need something _much_ stronger to get through the night.

Castiel had just chosen one of the many books from the shelves to immerse himself in— his cup was drained, and the music was still obnoxiously loud, and the alcohol had surprisingly been just strong enough to even give him a light buzz (he was now entertaining the thought it had been spiked— _further_— at some point), and the book looked interesting enough— when he felt a presence seat itself next to him, and he looked up and smiled at Sam.

"Hey, Castiel," Sam greeted, tilting his own cup towards him before tossing some back. "How's it goin'?"

"I suppose it could be worse," Castiel answered, shutting the book and placing it on his lap. "I've managed to avoid public humiliation thus far, though Meg's choice in music could perhaps have been a bit more tasteful." He would gladly take public embarrassment if it meant he'd suffer it to Mötley Crüe or Whitesnake or Poison instead of whatever "in the now" music was pouring from the speakers. In honesty, he'd unashamedly request Def Leppard if he wasn't sure Gabriel would purposefully play something worse just because he could; with Castiel's luck, it'd be Justin Bieber.

Because Gabriel was a gleefully vindictive asshole like that.

Sam snorted, grinning at him in understanding, and Castiel was immeasurably grateful that he was friends with such a wonderful person. "Yeah, even I have to admit I'd prefer Dean's classic rock tapes over all of this." He waved a hand in a gesture meant to indicate the stereo system. "Metallica would be extremely welcome right now. And we listen to that _all the goddamn time_."

Castiel chuckled under his breath. "I quite enjoy them, actually," he admitted. "ZZ Top and Led Zeppelin are also some of my favorites, right under Van Halen." Sam was staring at him wide-eyed, almost seeming impressed and awed at the same time, and Castiel frowned in confusion. "What?"

"Dude, I'm pretty sure you're my brother's soul mate." Sam made a "huh" noise, as if coming into a world-shifting revelation, and Castiel flushed at the implication. "Seriously, tell that to Dean and I can guarantee he'll drop down onto his knee and propose right there. Well." Sam turned and grinned at him again. "Tell him that _and _that pie is the answer to life."

Castiel quirked an eyebrow. "Isn't it, though?" he teased, laughing when Sam rolled his eyes and groaned. He paused for a moment, tilting his head to the side. "Though, burgers are quite good, too. I must say they are 'up there' on the very important list of 'Things Necessary To Survive'."

Yes, Castiel was quite the sarcastic little shit when he had alcohol in him.

Actually inebriated or not.

"Yeah, you two were definitely made for each other," Sam muttered, bumping his shoulder against Castiel's as they chuckled together. When it subsided, Castiel noticed the longing look on Sam's face, and he gave him an encouraging squeeze on his shoulder.

"Gabriel was looking for you," Castiel said softly, watching intently as Sam looked up at him with a small smile. "Perhaps you should seek him out."

Sam remained for a moment longer before draining his cup and pushing himself to his feet, towering over Castiel— well, even more than he normally did— and looking down at him. "You'd've better at least _introduced _yourself by the time the night ends," he said sternly, a smirk playing on his lips. "See ya later, man." And he walked off, leaving Castiel seated on the floor and staring after him with wide eyes and a pensive expression.

_"Easier said than done", as they say_, Castiel thought as he leant back against the shelves, tracing a finger over the cover of the book in his lap absently.

Whoever "they" were, they knew exactly what they were talking about.

. . .

It was official: Sam friggin' _detested _parties. Especially _Christmas _parties thrown for a bunch of hormone-driven teenagers that were only there for the alcohol anyway. Really, _just _since leaving Castiel to his brooding, he'd already dodged two spilled cups in his lap, three tipsy come-ons, and some guy who couldn't exactly hold his liquor.

_Fan-fuckin'-tastic. _

And now here he was, winding his way through bodies grinding to some awful bass-heavy song in the den, just trying to find a place to sit that wasn't either a biohazard (the rec room), in projectile distance (kitchen, as he'd been unfortunate enough to discover), or bearing a WARNING: TIPSY WHORE FALLING IN YOUR LAP AREA sign (living room, which is why he'd left his best friend on the floor to fend for himself) while simultaneously searching out a head of blond hair that was a good head shorter than himself. Which, being a head taller than _literally everyone in the goddamn school _made it sorta hard.

Friggin' genes.

Sam was almost ready to find Dean and tell him he wanted to go home and that he'd just call Gabe and meet him somewhere the next day or something. Seriously, this wasn't worth it at this point. He was sure Gabriel would understand— they'd waited this long; what's another twelve hours or so?

_Man, Castiel had the right idea, _he thought dismally to himself, pushing through yet another couple. He, thankfully, found himself out of the throng and made his way to the hallway, searching out another room to scope for seating. If he'd thought to bring a book or something, Sam was sure he'd be putting up with less of the stupidity he could _feel _in the air at the moment. Because teenagers tended to hiss and back away from people who carried books around, and that would've come _so _in handy.

Man, his teen-angst-filled sighs were getting out of hand.

Coming to the rec room again, Sam paused at the door, frowning. He almost wanted another beer, but from what he could hear and see of his brother, he wasn't sure Dean was going to be sober enough to drive them back home. _Figures, _he grumbled internally. _I can't even get wasted, jerk. _Running a hand through his hair, Sam turned on his heel, thinking some of those finger foods sure sounded good about now, when he ran into a body.

"Hey, Sam~" a voice slurred, and Sam looked down as he steadied himself and whoever ran into him. He immediately wanted to let her fall on her ass, but he was too nice sometimes.

"Ruby," he gritted out, pushing her shoulders gently away from himself. "Enjoying the party?"

She giggled, staggering a bit and looking up at him from under her lashes. Sam had to fight a shiver running up his spine at the lasciviousness in her smirk. "I am now~" she purred, running a hand up his chest. Sam did shiver then, and he knew she read it wrong by the widening of her lips to show white teeth. _Oh, shit. _"Been lookin' for you~"

"H-Have you?" he stuttered, and okay, he was ready to get out of there _right now. _

Ruby was part of _that crowd, _the one that Sam and all his friends made fun of and talked bad about and just generally tried to stay away from at all costs. They were deviants, kids who smoked a pack a day, had sex and used drugs just to spite their parents because they had the money and _could. _Alastair and Azazel liked to use their time to pick on others and blackmail them into doing their dirty bidding, while Ruby hung with Lilith and sometimes Meg, trying to lure people into the group. Sam knew Crowley ran with them occasionally, though he wasn't near as bad— Sam had to admit, the guy had standards, even if he was shady— and while Lucifer was pretty much head of the group, even _he _was tolerable on a good day.

Which, okay, _maybe _Sam had had a thing for him a couple of years ago, but he'd been young and stupid and he'd come to his senses when Luce started… whatever it was with Michael and Sam had realized his burning desire for short blond pranksters who ate nothing but sugar (and Dean would _never _hear him admit it that way. _Ever._), but _still. _

If Sam was thinking _Lucifer Milton _was a better person than Ruby and her gang, then that should say _something. _

Maybe Sam was still crazy after all. Huh.

Ruby, for her part, was completely unaware of Sam's inner freaking out, and just continued tracing his muscles with her nail, leaning heavily into him and nearly taking them to the ground; it was only by Sam's natural bracing stance when he was in danger (look at that— maybe those self-defense lessons weren't shit after all. _Thanks, Dad_) that they were even still upright.

"Mmhm," she hummed. Sam was having trouble trying to keep her from clinging to him. "You're pretty cute, y'know? Definitely better than that brother of yours. And you're a natural rebel." She leered up at him. "I like that in a guy."

It was a valiant effort to untangle her arms from around him, but Sam managed, backing away down the hall. "Really, Ruby. That's great, but I'm not interested," he tried to tell her, just like he did every time she did this. Sam wasn't sure what it was about him that was so "irresistible" or whatever, but he wished it didn't work so well sometimes.

Well, that was a little bit of a lie. He wished it only worked well enough to grab a certain someone's attention, but if he'd heard correctly, Sam shouldn't have to worry about that.

Still, though.

Sam had managed to get down the hall far enough to enter the lounge, where the majority of people where hanging out and preparing for the karaoke he'd heard Meg announce earlier, before he felt arms slide around his waist.

"Aw, c'mon, Sam~" Ruby tugged at him, and even with his size, she shoved him up against the wall, pressing her body against his. "You don't have to play hard to get~" She giggled again, looking up and pausing. "Oh, would you look at that?"

"Really, Ruby," Sam insisted, trying not to just punch her and be done with the bitch. Seriously, what was with people and throwing themselves at him tonight? Jeez. It was like he was _Dean _now. He glanced up too, though, and Sam felt himself pale at the sight of the little white berries hanging above him. _Dammit, Meg. _"I don't—"

"_I~ don't want a lot for Christmas~ There is just one thing I need~" _

Sam was cut off and he and Ruby turned to look into the room as it erupted in cheers, drunk teenagers shouting and making a ruckus that demanded attention. Sam's heart leapt in his chest as he recognized the voice now singing above the rest of the noise.

He'd know it anywhere.

_"I don't care about the presents underneath the Christmas tree~" _

The crowd parted, still whistling and yelling, and Sam couldn't restrain a relieved smile as Ruby leaned away to get a better look at Gabriel, who was slowly walking around the room and singing into a spatula. He was gesturing dramatically, his expression one of exaggerated loss and devastation, and Sam couldn't help but chuckle.

_"I just want you for my own~ Mo~re than you could ever know~ Make my wish come tru~e~" _

"He's such a show-off," Ruby scoffed as Gabriel vocalized as Mariah did in the song, leaning on Sam again, and Sam was praying to whatever Higher Power was listening that she didn't feel the hard on he was now sporting as he watched Gabriel make eye contact with him.

_"All I want for Christmas iiiii~s—" _

_Yes, he is, _Sam agreed. Gabriel pointed directly at Sam and winked as he held out the note, and Sam felt himself flush as the room turned to look at him and Ruby.

_"Yoooo~u~!" _

. . .

Gabriel Novak would be the first to admit that he didn't exactly live up to his namesake in any way, shape or form, and he'd admit it with pride (why be a boring ol' archangel when he could have _fun? _He wasn't _Cassie, _for Heaven's sake!). He'd done some insane shit in his day— shut up; eighteen was totally old enough to have an "in his day"— and again, he'd be the first to readily admit he probably had a vindictive streak comparable to Luci's and just as many sadistic tendencies, too (they weren't BFFs for _nothing_, after all). He was experimental, he _loved _to get hardcore on occasion, and he was pretty liberal in everything he did, even doing more than one thing at a time.

But watching that two-timing, low-life whore-baby cunt-fucking _cockslut _of a she-demon trying to dig her evil claws into _his _precious Sammoose?

Hell hath no fury like the fuckin' Archangel of Judgment, that's for _damn _sure.

The fact that he'd noticed that _she'd _noticed the friggin' _mistletoe _above them wasn't helping things, either. Gabriel was laid back, free-spirited, and if he could help it, he wouldn't lift a finger if it didn't do anything for him. But _this_. _This _was where he put his foot down. _This _is where he showed people exactly why they shouldn't mess with him, his things, _or _the people he cared about. And Gabriel _caring _about Sam fuckin' Winchester was a goddamn _understatement, _even if he wouldn't put his real, deep-down-in-his-heart-of-hearts feelings into so many words_. _

It was time for Mariah Carey.

Oh, and the look on the bitch's face was absolutely priceless. Gabriel would've smote her where she stood with a fleeting thought if he could (sadly, being named after an archangel did not in fact give him the same powers, which was a total bummer), but the put-out fury and irritation when he'd interrupted what she was no doubt hoping was "her moment" was one thing he was going to treasure.

Along with the absolute _joy _on his Sammoose's face as he swooped in to rescue his damsel in distress, of course. That was same face he made seeing a bowl of Snickers with his name on it.

And, of course, it had been Gabriel's idea to do Christmas Carol Karaoke; he'd subtly suggested it to their host not long after he'd gotten there, after making his rounds to search out his moose and not running into him _once, _which Gabriel counted as some sort of achievement, though not one he'd wanted. Meg had been all too enthusiastic about it and told him she'd get everything set up for later, and he'd gone back to just being a good ol' pain in everyone's collective ass while he waited.

He was pretty sure the toilet in the downstairs guest bathroom was still overflowing Cola with Mentos. He needed to remember to add more later.

But now that Christmas Carol Karaoke was underway, it was proving a nice distraction. Good thing, too, 'cause without the excuse of belting out cheesy carols he'd probably have already gutted the bitch draping herself all over his Samsquatch.

Granted, they hadn't exactly gotten together _officially _yet, but it was practically written in stone by now that they were meant to be. Like Chucklehead and his baby brother. But more awesome. And epic.

And now he was making sure everyone knew it, too.

_"Oh, I won't ask for much this Christmas— I won't even wish for snow!" _Gabriel danced his way over to the couple under the door, reveling in the drunken cheering around him as he strategically shoved his way between his Sammich and the bitch, harshly hip-checking her back a couple of steps. _Hah. Serves you right~_ "_And I'm just gonna keep on waiting underneath the mistletoe~!" _

Sam looked red and embarrassed when Gabriel nudged him pointedly with a wink, but thankful and happy at the same time, so Gabriel counted it as a win. He ran a hand teasingly over the strong muscles running in the Sasquatch's arm and pulled it around him, making eyes up at his moose as he pressed them chest-to-back. "_'Cause I just want you here tonight,_ h_olding on to me so tight!_ _What more can I do?_ _Baby, all I want for Christmas is you~!_"

Gabriel grinned as Sam laughed, and he pulled the tall form farther into the room and away from the evil she-demon now looking livid and indignant at having her chosen boy-toy stolen from her. The feeling of triumph and smugness filled him as he stuck his tongue out over the spatula (hey, he'd had to improvise. Sue him) back at her.

"Hey!" she screeched, unable to stand straight with all that alcohol. "He's mine!"

"Sorry, skank~!" Gabriel hugged himself to Sam, who didn't protest though Gabriel felt him tense briefly before relaxing. "Find your own moose! I have dibs on this one!"

The hearty laugh coming from the Sasquatch made Gabriel's heart leap with happiness, and he ignored the catcalls and incomprehensibly drunken slurs coming from the bitch, grinning up at Sam and picking the song back up. _"Oh, I don't want a lot for Christmas; this is all I'm asking for! I just want to see my baby standing right outside my door!" _He tugged Sam's hand, twirling him around as he wiggled to the upbeat music. Everyone was dancing and singing along, too, way too drunk to care.

"Gabe!" Sam laughed, stumbling around with him, face flushed and red, and Gabriel winked.

_"Oh, I just want you for my own— more than you could ever know! Make my wish come true~!" _Gabriel couldn't stop the look of utter adoration that came over him when he looked up at his Sammich as he finished the song. Call him a sap, but he hoped Sam knew it was for him. It was _all _for him. "_Baby, all I want for Christmas is you_~!"

As the song faded, applause sounded in the room, and Gabriel turned from his gazing at Sam to take his bow, tossing the spatula down. "Thank you, thank you! I'll be here all week!" With a two-finger salute, he turned back to Sam, who was breathless and chuckling. "C'mon! Let's skedaddle!"

Sam let Gabriel pull him out of the room as another person took up the karaoke, searching out a quieter place that they could catch their breaths in. Thinking through the layout of the house, Gabriel led them upstairs to one of the guest bedrooms that wasn't occupied (someone— _several _someones— was having_ fuuuuun~_), pushing Sam in and closing the door behind it before slumping against it.

"You're just a trouble magnet, aren'tcha, Sammich?" He grinned.

Sam, in the dim light of the room, rolled his eyes and walked over to the made-up bed, plopping down on it with a huff. "It's not like I purposely put myself in that situation, Gabe."

"You're welcome, by the way." Gabriel looked at him pointedly, before moving to him and plopping himself on the bed next to him.

"Thanks," Sam said, and the relief in his voice was genuine and heartfelt. "I thought I'd never shake her off. You're a lifesaver."

Gabriel shrugged, catching and keeping Sam's eyes with a soft look that he could only hope didn't out his inner thoughts. Too much. "I don't like dirt like her touchin' my stuff, Sammykins. I'm a bit possessive, kiddo." He wasn't sure, but Gabriel would swear Sam's cheeks flushed at that as he ducked his head. He smirked, moving closer until he was practically sitting in Sam's lap, the boy automatically wrapping his long, gargantuan arms around Gabriel to steady him. It was a nice feeling, how perfectly they fit.

"Your stuff, huh?" Sam teased, looking at him with that small smile that made Gabriel feel all warm and tingly and a million other weird things that he'd normally beat back with a stick, but loved when it was Sammy.

Yeah, he said _loved. _That alcohol was _juiced_.

"I saw you first, Sammoose." Gabriel ran his hands through long chocolate hair, messing absently with the strands. Man, it was so soft~ Really, this boy turned him into a goddamn lovesick twelve-year-old. "Finder's, keeper's."

Sam snorted and hugged him tighter, and he found himself all too willing to move closer. "You're an ass," he informed with a smirk, rolling his gorgeous hazel eyes. The funny thing? Gabriel was pretty sure he wasn't even close to as drunk as he thought he should be for this.

But maybe that was okay.

Gabriel chuckled and wiggled pointedly in Sam's lap, loving the sharp inhale and deepening of the red in Sam's cheeks he received in turn. "And you love it." The words slipped out more serious than he'd intended, and he tensed. It was quiet for a moment in the room as they looked at each other, their breathing the only thing in the room, mingling together between them.

Sure, he had a crush on the kid— _more _than a crush, but whatever— and he was pretty sure the kid felt the same way, at least by what he'd managed to torture out of Castiel, but… But he still wasn't _sure_, and that was kinda scary. More than anything, Gabriel didn't want to fuck whatever he had with Sam up, and if that meant keeping his feelings hidden, then he'd do so. But if Sam felt the same, then…

Then he supposed he was willing to take that chance.

It was silent for another endless moment, before Sam finally let a soft, warm smile spread across his lips. "Yeah. I do," he agreed, and Gabriel knew exactly what it meant.

Gabriel's grin matched the one Sam wore, and he caressed his Sammoose's face gently. "Me too, Sammich," he said softly, leaning in. For all he normally went right into it— the lip biting, the tongue battles, the face-eating make-outs— he found he didn't need that at the moment. Sam's lips were chapped from the cold, but warm as they slid against his, and Gabriel found himself content to let it linger for a long moment, just a gentle press before pulling back. "Me too."

All in all, Gabriel would have to say that was probably the absolute _best _kiss he'd ever shared with anyone in his life.

. . .

Dean was officially on the better side of tipsy. His mind was sort of fuzzy, buzzing with the alcohol, and he was kinda warm now, though whether that was from his drinks, the heater, or because of how much he'd been laughing, he couldn't say. Another indicator of Jack and Jim doing their jobs— his friends weren't that funny, but damn, all of those jokes were just _hilarious _tonight.

At that point, Dean figured it was probably better to start thinning out his bloodstream, and he stumbled from the rec room, leaving Benny collapsed in guffaws on the floor, Ash nearly passed out, and… whoever else he'd been hanging with, as he staggered down the hall to the kitchen. His stomach was grumbling again, and water did sound kinda nice.

When he reached the kitchen, he was glad to see it was mostly empty; everyone who'd been there was more than likely makin' asses of themselves with the karaoke he could hear, but he wasn't complaining. There was only one other person, standing against the counter and looking for all the world like he didn't really wanna be there, and right then, Dean could sympathize. Slouching against the doorway, Dean squinted through the haze in his mind to discern features on the other guy— about his height, wearing a too-big grey sweater over a button-up and tight jeans— and he felt his heart pick up when the dark head of hair looked up and he found himself looking into large electric blue eyes.

_Fuck, _were they blue.

Dean wasn't sure how long he stood there just staring, unable to pull his gaze away from the intense depths of those eyes. It was like Casi- Caste- _Cas— _fuck it, he was too drunk for full name bullshit— didn't know how to blink or something, and why that made Dean feel even warmer, he didn't exactly wanna think about. So, in true Winchester fashion in dealing with mildly uncomfortable situations, he let a corner of his mouth curl up into a small smile and continued into the kitchen and to the sink.

Water was probably a really good idea.

"Enjoin' the party?" Dean grabbed a new cup, filling it with ice and tap water before turning to look back at those blue eyes.

For the first time since Dean walked in, those eyes blinked and Cas turned his head to glare— _wow that was kinda really hot_— at the wall across the room. "Not particularly," he replied, and Dean totally didn't shiver at the deepness of his voice. No way. Okay, maybe. "This is not my usual 'scene', but I had no other option than to attend."

Dean smirked behind a sip of water, watching as Cas' brow drew together slightly, how his lips turned down just enough to be called a pout. "Family drag you out, too?"

Cas turned back to him, pinning him with a stare. "I managed to walk out on my own, though Gabriel had threatened it," he replied thoughtfully.

Dean wouldn't put it past the little shit to do something like that. "Has he done it before?"

"I try not to give him the chance."

Dean snorted, chuckling as he leaned back against the counter next to Cas. "Yeah, Sammy probably would've dragged me out literally too, but only because I won't let him drive."

Cas sighed, looking out the door and in the direction of the music. "I'm afraid my brother is not the best of influences at times."

"No shit, really?" Dean rolled his eyes, shaking his head. He finished off his water and set the cup down. "I think Sammy can handle a bit of bad influence. It'll be good for him."

The corner of Cas' mouth curved up and he looked back at Dean with grateful eyes. "I'm happy you approve of them."

"If Sammy's happy, that's all that matters." Dean shrugged, and they fell into a comfortable silence for a moment before Dean broke it again. "You're Cas, right?" He filled his cup up again, using it as an excuse to _stop goddamn staring at him, jeez_.

When he looked back, Cas had tilted his head, looking at Dean as though confused but thoughtful. "No one has ever called me that before," he commented, and Dean thought he sounded pleased, but maybe that was just wishful thinking.

"Oh, uh," Dean stuttered, not sure what to make of that. "I mean, your name's just kinda a mouthful, so I just— I-If you don't like it, I can—"

"No, I like it," Cas assured him with a quirk of his lips, and Dean let out a light breath. "I find it much more agreeable than Gabriel's nickname."

"What does he call you?"

The slight pout was back as Cas rolled his eyes in exasperation. "'Cassie'," he muttered, with all the air of someone talking about roaches or some shit. "He does it because he knows it gets on my nerves."

Dean laughed. "Well, I think Cas suits ya better, so I'ma call you Cas."

Cas smiled, and maybe it was a trick of the light, or just him, but Dean swore his pale cheeks reddened ever so slightly. "Alright, Dean. I'd like that."

It was crazy how easy it was to talk to Cas, and Dean was glad he'd actually gotten the chance. Yeah, the princess was gonna want all the girly details later, but he figured it was worth it. They stood companionably for several long moments, listening to the cheering, yelling, and off-key singing of the karaoke through the walls, and Dean found himself leaning against Cas and his warmth as they avoided the masses of party guests.

It was a while later when Cas broke the silence. "Are you enjoying the party, Dean?"

And yeah, Dean's name on Cas' lips, in his voice, was definitely the best thing in the world. He shrugged with a sniff. "Eh. I've been to better. I actually would've rather stayed home, but the princess wanted to confess to Prince Douchebag." Dean groaned on principle. "Sammy made me come."

Cas' head tilted again in thought. "Oh, yes, Gabriel was looking for him when we arrived, and I ran into Sam earlier and encouraged him to search him out." He paused, and Dean looked over. "I wonder how their night is going."

Dean scrunched his face as certain images crept into his mind. "I really don't think I wanna know."

Cas hummed absently. "You're here with Lisa, are you not?" he asked, and his voice was softer, sad almost.

Dean rubbed the back of his head, heaving a long sigh. He really didn't want to think about his maybe-girlfriend, especially around Cas. "She's here, yeah," he finally said, dropping his hand. "But… I wouldn't say were here _together_."

Cas looked confused. "I don't understand."

Dean sighed again. "It's complicated, Cas. We're… havin' problems, I guess."

"Are they…" Cas trailed off, seeming to think for a moment before finishing his thought, "… are they similar to the issues Sam had with Jessica?"

Dean shot him a look from the side, pursing his lips. Feelings were dangerous territory, but it wouldn't hurt to tell Cas, right? "Uh, yeah, I guess they are." No, he wasn't blushing, dammit. "We've just… grown apart, maybe? I don't know. There's… a gap between us."

Cas pinned him with another look, wide-eyed and intense, and Dean found himself willing to do whatever the guy wanted. Man, Sammy's puppy eyes had nothing on Cas' big baby blues. "I'm afraid I don't know what the right words for this situation are," he finally said, and his shoulders slumped in apology. "I'm not very well-versed in the workings of relationships."

Dean blinked, and then smiled at Cas' innocence, shaking his head fondly and giving him a light punch on the shoulder. _God, _he was adorable. "Thanks, Cas. And don't worry about it— relationships aren't all that and a bag o' chips like they're cracked up to be."

And if Cas apologizing for being socially inept was adorable, Dean didn't even have a girly enough word for his lost puppy confusion. "What does a bag of chips have to do with relationships, Dean?"

Dean laughed again. "It's an expression, Cas! Means it's not as great as people make it out to be."

"Oh." Cas looked as if that was the revelation of the century, and Dean just kinda wanted to hug him.

But that would be weird, so Dean just smiled.

God, he was so _drunk. _

It was about then that two more people stumbled into the kitchen, laughing and pushing each other, and Dean would know that giant form anywhere, as well as the short one wrapping itself around the other. Dean rolled his eyes, gagging for effect and sneering at them. Sammy looked up, grinning widely, and Dean cringed at the totally rumpled look he was sporting.

"Hey, Dean!"

"Get a room, princess," Dean scowled. "No one wants to see that."

"Had one~!" Gabriel piped up, hanging on Sammy's back. He was pressing light kisses to the Sasquatch's neck, too, and Dean was gonna need so much brain bleach. "Meg kicked us out~!"

Both Dean and Cas shuddered. "The only reason I'm not kickin' your midget ass right now is 'cause I'm too drunk to even say Cas' name right," he said, and most of the words were clearer than before, though still minutely slurred. "So I'm gonna ask that you spare us the gory details."

"Cas, huh?" Sammy teased, adjusting Gabriel so he didn't drop him. He waggled his eyebrows.

Dean shrugged, smirking back and swinging an arm around Cas' shoulders. "He doesn't mind. Do ya, Cas?"

He felt Cas shake his head. "It is much nicer than my normal nickname," he agreed.

"What'd I tell ya, Sammich?" Gabriel was now standing on the ground, leaning up against Sammy and grinning at Dean and Cas in a way that made Dean's stomach curl in trepidation. "Don't they just look _adorable _together?"

Dean immediately dropped his arm, moving a step away and coughing as his brother and the ass-clown laughed together. Glancing at Cas confirmed he was as red as Dean felt, and he glared at the other two idiots. "Not cool, dickwad."

Gabriel waved him off, pulling a sucker out of his pocket— seriously, _where _did he keep them all? If Dean could figure it out, he'd definitely keep some pie on him or something— and unwrapping it. "Please, Deano. Everyone and their dead grandma knows you two are destined to make sweet gay love and live happily ever after." He popped the sucker into his mouth, looking at them pointedly. "You'd save yourself lots of angst if you'd just drop that ornament and ask him out already."

Dean couldn't find words as he sputtered, and looking at Sammy for backup only got him a shrug and a smile. "He's right, Dean. Like, it's almost physically painful to watch you two dance around each other like you are." He gave Dean a pleading look, though Dean didn't find himself quite as affected by the puppy eyes as he'd once been. His brother had _nothing _on Cas. "Please, Dean. Put us out of our misery."

Aaaand now it was all awkward. And when it got awkward? Dean huffed and ignored it. Cas still standing next to him, not saying anything, wasn't helping as much as he wished, and Dean just wanted to go home and curl up and go to sleep. Which sounded like such a fantastic idea, that's what he did.

"Alright, I think we've had enough 'celebrating' for one night," Dean said loudly, hoping to drown out his thoughts on doing exactly what his brother and brother's midget boyfriend wanted him to. He'd had enough of the whole "feelings" thing, _thank you very much_. "Say bye to your boyfriend, bitch, and let's head out." He turned back to Cas, feeling his chest tighten as those too-blue eyes found his again. "It was nice talkin' to ya, Cas," he smiled. "See ya Monday?"

"Of course, Dean," Cas smiled timidly, still red from the embarrassment that was their brothers. "It was nice conversing with you as well."

Dean waved before turning and grabbing Samantha's arm, pulling him away from his midget. "Jerk," he muttered, and Dean smiled. They waved again to the Novak brothers, winding their way through people as the party carried on around them to the front door and back out into the cold. Dean tucked his hands into his pocket, inhaling the biting air as they headed for Baby.

It wasn't until they were almost home that Dean realized he hadn't said two words to Lisa the entire time, his mind full of mussed dark hair and wide blue eyes.

And he was totally okay with that.

* * *

><p><strong>Okay, so I've never written Gabriel before, so I'm not sure I'm completely happy with his chunk, but Dean's pretty fun. <strong>

**And that's about all I have for this for now. I've got, like, three other things to work on plus this, so the update may not be out quite on Thursday next week, but I will try. Like I've said, if I have homework to put off, I'll put it off. Hope you're enjoying this!**

**Don't forget to review!**


End file.
